


We Don't Need to Whisper

by just_chiara



Series: Somewhere Between Broken and Happy [4]
Category: 13 Reasons Why (TV)
Genre: Addiction, American Football, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Autumn, Basketball, Brother-Sister Relationships, Brotherly Angst, Bullying, Canon Compliant, Canon Disabled Character, Christmas, Coming Out, Disability, Disabled Character, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Football, Friendship, High School, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Injury Recovery, M/M, Male Friendship, Male Slash, Male-Female Friendship, Mother-Son Relationship, Normal Life, OT5 Friendship, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Drug Addiction, Physical Disability, Plans For The Future, Post-Canon, Post-Season/Series 02, References To Canon Suicide Attempt, References to Depression, School Dances, Secret Relationship, Slash, Spring, Summer, Summer Vacation, Teen Angst, Winter
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-06-15 17:07:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 81,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15417603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/just_chiara/pseuds/just_chiara
Summary: During their senior year, Alex and Zach work on their still-new relationship and deal with coming out to their families and classmates, as well as college applications and scholarships — while still recovering from the events of the year before. Justin, Clay and Jess stand by their side and handle their own problems as best they can.





	1. July

### I.

They’re hanging out in Clay’s bedroom. If asked, they’ll say it’s because it’s hot as hell outside, but, really, it’s more about the comic books than the AC. Clay’s gotten them all hooked.

“It’s our anniversary next week,” Zach says when Clay and Justin go looking for snacks and leave him alone with Alex. Alex is sitting on a chair; Zach is lying on the floor with a pillow under his head. Zach looks up at him. “Our two-month anniversary,” he adds, before Alex asks him which one.

“We’re celebrating that one, too?” Alex asks. He almost manages not to smile.

It’s stupid. It’s absolutely stupid to celebrate a two-month anniversary. One of those stupid, stupid things you do when you’re in love.

Also, one of those things you learn to do when you’re seventeen and you’ve already been through too much, when the tough anniversaries threaten to outnumber the good ones. The death of Zach’s dad, just a few days ago. Jeff’s and Hannah’s deaths in a few months. Alex’s attempted suicide a few weeks after that. They _have_ to celebrate the good ones, too, or they will never catch their breath.

“Tell your parents you’ll be home late, I’ve got plans,” Zach says. He’s grinning.

“Oh, you do?” Alex bites his lower lip and Zach feels the urge to kiss him.

“Not that kind of plans. But we can totally make out in the car after,” he promises.

When Justin and Clay come back a couple of minutes later, Zach is bending over Alex, supporting himself on the armrests of the chair Alex is sitting in. Alex’s good arm is wrapped about Zach’s shoulders and they’re kissing.

“Hey, lovebirds, the third and fourth wheels are back,” Justin announces.

Clay takes possession of his bed before Justin does. “That’s not an expression.”

“Well, I just said it, so it is.” Justin makes Clay scoot over and takes up most of the space on the bed. “Earth to Zalex! Are you still with us?”

“Fuck you, Justin,” Alex says when Zach stops kissing him.

* * *

Zach picks him up early on the afternoon of July 24. He’s wearing jeans, a blue t-shirt Alex picked out for him a few weeks ago, and a smile that goes straight to Alex’s heart. They kiss in the middle of the living room, taking advantage of the fact that no one else is home, and Alex hopes Zach’s plans are fucking great because they are wasting an entire evening of having the house to themselves.

“Where are we going?” asks Alex when Zach makes a right turn that can only mean they’re headed out of town.

They stop at a red light. Zach grabs a plain white envelope from the dashboard and hands it to Alex. “Open it,” he says.

Inside, Alex finds two tickets to see Breaking Benjamin in Mountain View tonight. He smiles as soon as he sees them. They’re one of his favorite bands and he’s never seen them play live. But more than that, much more than that, their songs are the first ones he shared with Zach, back when they were still just friends. They listened to them sitting next to each other in a booth in the back of a diner and he realized that Zach really got it. Really got _him_. That night was when he started falling in love with him, even though it would be months before he realized it, before they kissed for the first time.

“If you’re running for the Boyfriend of the Year award, you should start working on your winning speech,” he says.

“Yeah, that was the reaction I was going for,” Zach grins. “Should we stop for food now or once we get there?”

“ _Dude,_ both.”

* * *

They set down a blanket on the grass. They pick a spot close enough to the stage that they’ll be able to enjoy the concert later, but far enough from the mosh pit to avoid getting caught up in it. They talk while they wait and then they make out, safe in their anonymity. In Crestmont, they have to be careful all the time. It’s exhilarating being able to kiss in a public place.

* * *

On stage, the opening act is playing.

“Hey, watch it!” Alex shouts at the twenty-something who just bumped into him. The guy doesn’t apologize, doesn’t even stop to look at him. As if he didn’t exist.

“Fucker,” Alex mumbles. You’d think people would at least be decent enough not to crash into the guy with a cane.

Zach moves to stand behind him and wraps his arms around him. “I should have gotten us seats,” he says.

Alex snuggles closer to him, pressing his back into Zach’s chest. He might be the guy with the cane, but he’s also the guy with the giant of a boyfriend who gets protective when people almost make him fall. Also, the giant of a boyfriend who gives the best hugs.

“No, this is perfect,” he says, and he means it. It’s hard to stay angry at stupid people when Zach is hugging him like that. He lets go of the cane since he doesn’t need it and holds Zach’s hand instead.

* * *

The lyrics are sad and sometimes hopeless. Some verses hit too close to home. They hold each other tighter and sing at the top of their lungs. It’s a way of exorcising their demons, singing about them. Especially since they’re surrounded by twenty thousand people feeling the same way and singing just as loud.

Their hearts beat in time with the music. They feel alive.

More than that, they _want_ to be alive.

Music is powerful like that.

Love, too.

 


	2. August

### II.

There are several things Alex likes about hanging out at Zach’s house. For one, when they close the door of Zach’s bedroom, his mom knocks and waits for Zach to tell her she can come in before opening it. The snack selection is also much better than the one at Alex’s house and ordering pizza isn’t considered an act of terrorism.

And then there’s the huge L-shaped couch in the living room. (And the 70-Inch TV. But mostly the couch.) Whenever they have the house to themselves, they ditch the bedroom and settle down in the living room instead.

The couch is _huge_ : it easily sits six people. It’s so big that even Zach fits comfortably there. It’s perfect for long make-out sessions and for post-studying power naps snuggled up together. For watching TV, too, which is what they’re doing today.

“Don’t fall asleep,” Alex says softly, as he runs his fingers through Zach’s hair. He’s sitting in the corner seat with his legs stretched out on the cushions. Zach is sprawled out on his stomach, half next to Alex and half on top of him, arms loosely holding him and head resting on his chest. They’re watching _Daredevil_ , but Zach seems more interested in cuddling, which is fine by Alex. More than fine actually. What’s not fine is Zach falling asleep.

Zach’s little sister is upstairs, probably reading a book. They are keeping the volume of the TV low enough that they’ll be able to hear her open the door and come downstairs: Zach can then easily sit up and they can look like they’re just watching Netflix in a matter of seconds. That is, if Zach doesn’t fall asleep.

“I’m not,” says Zach, but his eyes are closed.

Alex nudges him. “Zach? May is upstairs.”

“I know, I know,” Zach yawns. He disentangles himself from Alex, gets up and raises his arms above his head to stretch. The white t-shirt he’s wearing rides up to reveal a strip of skin and Alex _really_ wishes May was at a friend’s house today.

“I’ll check in on her and get some coffee. Want something?” asks Zach.

“Chips, please. And a blanket: it’s cold without you here.”

“I can turn down the AC if you want. And I’m coming back in five minutes, anyway,” Zach says. He doesn’t turn down the AC, though; he grabs a hoodie from the armrest at the far end of the couch and tosses it to Alex. He climbs the stairs two at a time: not because he’s in a hurry, simply because he’s seventeen and he can. He knocks on his sister’s door.

Alex grabs the remote, stops the episode and then puts on Zach’s hoodie. He closes his eyes. Maybe a nap isn’t such a bad idea. Just five minutes, while Zach is upstairs.

When Zach comes back with a cup of coffee in one hand and a bag of Nacho Cheese Doritos in the other, Alex is curled up like a cat but still awake. He plops down on the couch and it’s a wonder he doesn’t spill coffee everywhere. He throws the chips aside on the empty seat next to him.

“All good upstairs?” Alex asks.

“Yeah, she’s reading. She’s right in the middle of _The Hunger Games_. She’s not coming out of her room any time soon,” Zach says. He reaches out to rest his hand on Alex’s hip and affectionately moves it up his side while nursing his coffee. Alex’s body feels relaxed under his touch.

Alex turns his head slightly to look at Zach. “She’s lucky, you know? To have an older brother like you,” he says. “I think she knows she can talk to you about anything.”

“She’s my sister,” Zach shrugs.

“Well, I’ve got an older brother and I can’t talk to him about shit.”

Zach strokes Alex’s back. His touch is slow, gentle; his voice is soft when he speaks: “Would you still have done it if you'd been able to talk to him about everything that was going on?”

He doesn't need to say _what_.

“I don't know,” Alex admits. He ponders the question for a few moments. “I was feeling guilty, that was the main thing. There were anxiety and depression and this guilt on top of them. I thought it was my fault that Hannah died. It took me months of therapy to kind of forgive myself, so I doubt Peter could have helped. But I guess if he had been around and we'd had the kind of relationship you and May have… Yeah, I guess I would have talked to him and he could have realized I was in trouble and gotten me help.”

“I wish he had,” Zach says. “I wish _I_ had.”

Alex takes his hand. Their fingers interlock. “I'm still here and I'm better now. You make me happy _now_.”

Zach nods, holds his hand tighter and doesn't let go.

“Are you worried about May?” Alex asks after a moment.

“No, she's fine,” Zach assures. “But I want to make sure that doesn't change, you know?”

“As I said: you're an awesome big brother.”

“I try.”

Zach drinks the last of his coffee and sets down the empty mug on the low, steel-and-glass table. “Now, can we take full advantage of the couch and snuggle?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “You’re such a cuddle monster.”

Zach is already maneuvering them into a spooning position. “Don’t say it like you don’t love it,” he whispers, nose nuzzling Alex’s neck.

 

 

### III.

In his defense, he really did try.

He left his phone inside the house on the kitchen table to avoid getting distracted by texts and social media notifications. He's got his Math book, water to stay hydrated, a notepad and plenty of pens and pencils. His favorite snacks are neatly lined up in front of him, just out of reach, as an incentive: he can eat them as soon as he achieves the goals Clay set for him. Thirty minutes of focused learning earns him a pack of Oreos; scoring at least 600 on a practice test gets him a bag of Caramel M&Ms and scoring at least 700 a Milky Way bar. (To be fair, it’s unlikely the Milky Way bar will ever end up in Alex’s hands.)

His only mistake was asking Justin to keep Zach busy. The idea was to avoid getting distracted by him, but it backfired spectacularly. Because, yeah, sure, right now Zach isn't sitting right next to him just waiting to be kissed, but he is doing push-ups a few feet away from him. _Shirtless_.

Algebra doesn't stand a chance against Zach's toned muscles. Math might be what Alex needs to focus on in order to get a decent SAT score and be accepted to college, but it doesn't have abs. Zach has an unfair advantage there.

“Can you guys do that somewhere else?” Clay shouts to Justin and Zach after losing Alex's attention for the twelfth time in seven minutes.

“Like where?” Justin asks. “We can’t go inside, we need space.”

They’re all in the garden of Zach’s house, taking advantage of his mother spending a few days in San Francisco with her sister and taking May with her. Later, they’re going to order pizza and watch movies, and then Alex is spending the night. The plan for the afternoon was studying for the SATs that Alex, Zach and Justin are taking in October. Most of their classmates took it last spring, but they were busy dealing with, well, _life_. Clay managed to get a great score when he took it in June and now he volunteered to tutor them. The problem is, Zach and Alex can’t sit at the same table without distracting each other and Justin seems more interested in getting ready for the upcoming football tryouts.

“You could always go inside and _study_ ,” Clay suggests.

“We’ll go for a run,” decides Justin. “C’mon, Zach, get up.”

Clay sighs but decides he can deal with Justin tomorrow. Or maybe next week. They’ve been through enough this summer. If it helps Justin to spend the weeks before school starts lifting weights and running wind sprints, then he should do it. Justin staying clean is more important than him getting a good education; his mental health takes precedence over school. Seeing someone you care about, someone who’s not even 18 yet and has been beaten down in every possible way, go through detox twice in less than six months, gives you perspective.

So Clay lets Justin go and focuses on Alex. He rips a piece of paper off his notepad and scribbles:

_1 hour of your undivided attention  
REWARD: ZACH_

He places it in front of Alex, right next to the Milky Way bar that’s melting in the afternoon heat. “Okay, ready?”

Alex watches Zach leave with Justin. “I guess,” he says.

* * *

It’s not the first time that Alex has slept over at Zach’s, and it’s not the first time they’ve shared a bed either, but it’s the first time since they’re together, so it isn’t surprising that it takes them a while to find a compromise on how to sleep. Zach is a snuggler. Having his boyfriend right next to him is not enough, he wants Alex tucked into his arms. Alex, however, would much rather _not_ cuddle all night _._ He loves Zach’s hugs and he admits that spooning makes naps a million times better, but hugs and naps don’t last eight hours. It gets uncomfortable after a while, and he picks comfort over romance, thank you very much.

Eventually, they settle into a loose spooning position that allows Zach to feel Alex close enough and to touch him but also leaves Alex some space so he doesn’t feel smothered.

Then, early in the morning, when they’re both in that blissful state between sleep and wakefulness in which your body registers what happens around you but your mind is still refusing to wake up, Zach slowly inches closer and wraps himself around Alex.

“Don’t think I didn’t notice that,” mumbles Alex, without opening his eyes.

Zach kisses his shoulder. “Want me to let go?”

Alex sighs, “I didn’t say that.”

Zach smiles. They both fall back to sleep a few minutes later.

* * *

Later, much later, when the sun is up in the sky and they finally get out of bed, they have breakfast on the couch with orange juice and leftover pizza. They eat in comfortable silence: Alex scrolls through the news on his phone while Zach reads a book.

“I can now confirm that today the world sucks at least as much as yesterday,” says Alex after a while. “Probably a bit more.”

“Let’s forget about the world today then. Let’s do something fun,” Zach says. “We deserve a day off the suckiness.”

Before Alex has time to say anything, Zach’s phone starts ringing. It’s an unknown number but Zach picks up without hesitating. His “Hello” is informal and laid-back, but his voice and body language change as soon as he hears who’s calling. Alex doesn’t quite know what GS, FGM and FTM stand for, but once he hears the words _Coach_ , _training_ and _scholarship_ , he can easily guess they are basketball-related. This isn’t the first coach to call Zach this summer, but from Zach’s serious expression and tense posture this one must be important.

“USC,” Zach says after the call ends. The University of Southern California isn’t an Ivy League school, but it’s good and it has a Division I basketball team. Zach allows himself to smile. “He said he saw me play last year at a tournament and likes my stats. He wants to meet in a couple of months and said he can’t wait to see me play again.”

Alex takes his hand. “That’s really great, Zach.”

“I’m not even sure I’ve got the grades to get accepted,” Zach admits. “My coach told me it usually doesn’t matter too much if they want me bad enough, but I don’t know. And I’m not going to get my hopes up anyway. It was just a call. My name is probably on a list of a hundred people.”

“You know I’m all for bitching about life, but can we maybe be happy about this? Just for today?” Alex looks at him with a small smile. “Then tomorrow, if you want, I’ll help you write down a list of 50 reasons why it’s not gonna work out. Number 38 has to do with our alien overlords outlawing basketball.”

Zach laughs. “Don’t even joke about that.”

 

 

### IV.

“Tell me everything!” Jess says as soon as Alex picks up the phone.

“Why, hello to you, too,” Alex smiles.

“Ugh, fine, whatever. Hello, how are you? Now tell me everything.”

Alex sits down at the foot of the bed. “You know, maybe I should call your grandma and tell her to teach you some phone manners,” he jokes.

“You wouldn’t be joking if you were here,” she says. “Wanna know what the highlight of my day has been? _Studying_! Studying, Alex!”

“I thought the highlight of your day would be calling me.”

“It _could_ be,” Jess allows. “But only if you start sharing some details about your night with Zach. Remind me what having a life looks like. I’m beginning to forget the notion of _having_ _fun_. Like, it’s so bad here, that I’m looking forward to learning how make jam tomorrow.”

He laughs at that. “That’s _bad_.”

She’s spending the whole summer at her grandparents’ in the countryside. Or, as Alex calls it, the Wasteland of Boredom, Where Dreams Go to Die.

Her parents thought it would be therapeutic for her to get away from Crestmont for a while and focus on herself. And it was, for the first five days. But now, over nine weeks later, she is positive that this is what hell looks like: endless days of braiding your cousin’s hair, making tomato sauce, and folding laundry.

“ _So bad_. Please let me live vicariously through you,” she pleads.

“Alright. What do you wanna know?” Alex gets up and checks that his parents are still downstairs watching TV. He closes the door.

She goes to the kitchen and puts the kettle on for a cup of tea. “You just spent the night with your boyfriend for the first time. I demand to know _everything_.”

“You know, it wasn’t like we never had sex before,” he says. “But, yeah, it was different, being together the entire night and then waking up in the same bed. Good different. I could get used to it.”

The water starts boiling. He hears it in the background.

“Are you making _tea_?”

“What’s wrong with tea?”

“Fuck, Jess, they’re turning you into a tea-drinking, hair-braiding, jam-making hippie,” Alex laughs.

She scoffs as she pours hot water into the cup. “You should have come and saved me back in June when I asked you to. Now it’s too late for me. Keep talking about your perfect night with your perfect boyfriend.”

“It’s, like, more intimate, if that makes sense.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.”

“And you know Zach. He’s cuddly. I woke up wrapped up in his arms,” he says. “And the weirdest thing is, I _liked_ it.”

Jess brings her cup outside and sits down on the front porch of the house. She laughs. “Now who’s the cuddle-loving hippie?”

Alex can’t help but laugh, too. “Shut up.”

“How’s Justin?” she asks, after a moment’s hesitation.

“He’s fine. He’s good. He’s still… It’s still hard for him, but he’s trying really hard and Clay thinks he’ll be able to stay clean this time,” Alex says. “You should call him.”

She sips her tea. “I texted him. We’re texting a lot. But I still don’t know what I want, Alex, and I don’t want to get his hopes up, you know?”

“Yeah, but you should call him anyway.”

Alex lies down on his bed. Jess had already left when Clay realized Justin was still using. She wasn't there when he went through detox again. She didn't see him so close to breaking down that it hurt just to look at him. They told her it was bad, but not how bad. They downplayed it because she couldn't do much from afar anyway. Now he's doing better but he still needs all the support he can get from his friends.

“Jess,” Alex says. “He knows we talk on the phone. He's not jealous or anything, but I think you would make him really happy if you called him. And maybe he could use some hope right now.”

“I'll call him tomorrow morning,” she promises.

“Make it afternoon: he trains with Zach in the morning. They go for a run, lift weights and I don't know what else.”

“Ugh, _why_?”

Alex hums his agreement. “I _know_. I think Justin is trying not to think about everything else. And Zach has scholarships to think about. They keep calling him, you know? A couple of coaches are basically stalking him.”

“He texted me about USC. Are you thinking of applying?”

“Maybe, but it would be a really long shot and even if I got in, I'm not sure I can afford to go,” he sighs. “Can we not talk about school, though? When are you coming back anyway?”

“TBD. My dad wants me to stay here until the week before school starts but I hope I can convince him to come get me a bit earlier.”

Alex looks at the time. Zach is picking him up in 10 minutes. “I hope so, too. I miss you.”

“Promise me we'll do something fun as soon as I'm back,” she says.

He promises. “Now I better go. Zach is picking me up and he's never late.”

“So annoying.”

“Right?”

 

 

### V.

Zach comes into the kitchen and finds his mom making herself a cup of herbal tea.

“I'm going for a run,” he says.

She turns around and looks at him. “Isn't it a bit late to go running?”

“I'll be back before 10.30,” he promises. He knows she worries about him being out running after dark. He could fall, he could get hurt, and what if no one is around to help him? So, even though he knows he'll regret it, he adds, “I’ll be with Justin.”

“You've been spending a lot of time with Justin lately,” she says. “And with the Standall kid.”

Of course, she doesn't mention Clay, although Zach's been spending as much time with him as with Justin. But Clay is from a respectable family: his mother is a lawyer, his father a teacher. He's got a good reputation. He isn't the son of a drug addict and didn't spend a month in juvie. He didn't try to kill himself either.

“Alex,” Zach corrects. He can't tell her he's his boyfriend, he's not ready to do that, but he's not going to let her call him _the Standall kid_. The way she said it, it's like there's something wrong with that. “They're my best friends, of course I've been spending a lot of time with them.”

“I'm just not sure they're the right kind of friends for you.” She's using her I'm-Trying-To-Treat-You-Like-An-Adult-But-I-Am-Right voice. Zach hates it. “You need to be careful who you spend time with. You're starting your senior year soon. Colleges will be looking at you.”

It's not the first time Zach's heard that argument. Every time he bit his tongue and avoided a discussion. Not tonight. “Who should I hang out with, then? Bryce, maybe? You know, the guy who raped Jess, Hannah, his own girlfriend and who knows how many other girls?”

“And Justin’s innocent? He’s still on probation for what happened to that girl, Jessica,” she retorts. “Is that the kind of person you want to be friends with?”

“He made a mistake, Mom. So did I, or did you forget?” Zach is getting upset. He tries to stay calm, but his pain and anger show in his voice. “Justin is my best friend and I’m sorry you don’t like him, but I’m not going to stop hanging out with him. And Alex… Alex _gets_ me. I can talk to him, really talk to him, and he helped me get through the past few months.”

She looks right at him, but, somehow, she doesn’t seem to _see_ him. “I just don’t want him putting strange ideas into your head.”

“Strange ideas? You mean like suicide? Alex is the one I’ve been talking to every time I was struggling.” It’s all coming out now. He’s been keeping it all in for too long. He stops himself just short of telling her that Alex is more than a friend. “Last month, on the anniversary, you acted like it was a regular day. You know who hugged me that day? Alex, Justin and Clay, and even Alex’s mom. _You_ didn’t. _Alex_ was with me as I cried my fucking eyes out.”

“Language, Zachary!”

“Out of everything I just told you, you’re choosing to focus on that one word?” He takes a couple of steps back. “I need some air. I’m going for a run. With _Justin_.”

 

 

### VI.

Justin, slumped on the couch with a bored expression on his face, is flipping through the TV channels. He knows Clay is standing a few feet away, he can feel him staring, but he’s doing his best to ignore him. Maybe he’ll go away.

“Justin, can we talk?”

Or maybe he’ll say _that_.

 _Fuck_.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Justin jokes.

“Am I…? What?”

Justin keeps his eyes on the TV screen. “You asked if we could talk. That’s what people say when they want to break up with you,” he says. “It was a joke. Not a very good one, apparently.”

Clay is standing next to the TV now but Justin still doesn’t look at him. The way he keeps his eyes glued to the screen, you’d think he was watching the Super Bowl, not a commercial for a new dish detergent.

“Stop avoiding me. It’s just a conversation about school, man,” Clay says as he steps in front of the TV. Justin turns it off and finally looks at him.

“Okay, what about school?” Justin’s defenses go up instantly.

Clay takes a seat at the opposite end of the couch. He wanted to have a casual conversation with Justin, now whatever he says is going to sound too serious and Justin is going to withdraw into his shell. “Fuck, this is too formal. I just want to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m fine. What does that have to do with school? It hasn’t even started yet.”

Apparently, Justin’s not going to make it easy for him. Clay sighs internally but does his best to hide his frustration from Justin. “Not yet, but soon. So how do you feel about that?”

Justin shrugs. He doesn’t take pity on Clay’s attempts to start a real conversation. “I’m not looking forward to it, but who is?”

“Yeah, that’s true.”

Clay struggles to find the right words, the ones that will break through his defenses. With Justin, you don’t crack the door open just once, you have to do it every single time. “JJ?” he calls.

 _JJ_. He’s the only one who calls Justin that. It’s short for _Justin Jensen_ , and it’s his way of reminding him that he’s part of the family, that they’re brothers now.

“Clay, don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Justin says, finally opening up. “I won’t start using again. I can handle school. I’ve got you, and Zach, Jess and Alex. I know you guys have my back. It’ll be okay.”

“And you’ll come talk to me or our parents or our friends if you need help?”

Justin nods. “Promise.”

He looks so strong and yet so broken. Guarded and yet honest. Scared but also resilient. He’s a hundred contradictions wrapped up in the body of a seventeen-year-old.

“I know you think school is stupid and maybe it is, but you’re not,” Clay says. “I’m already working on my college applications. I could help you. You’re good at basketball, right?”

“If you’re thinking scholarships, scouts are going to come to our games alright but they’re going to be there to see _Zach_ play. He’s good, I’m just decent enough.” He sounds proud of his best friend rather than jealous.

“You said a few coaches were interested in you last year,” Clay presses on.

Justin thinks about it, then shrugs. “I guess. But that was last year. Before… _everything_.”

Clay doesn’t give up. “Your coach loves you, he’s going to help you.”

“Okay, you’re right, maybe he will. I’ll talk to him,” Justin says, but he doesn’t sound optimistic.

“And will you start taking SAT prep sessions seriously?” Clay asks. “You’ve been focusing on training for football lately and I know that’s your thing, sports. But you’ll need decent grades, too, if you want to get into college.”

Justin looks up at him. “Do you really think _I_ can get into college?”

“I _know_ you can.”

Justin hadn’t considered the possibility in almost a year. He used to think about it, before. Before the tapes, before Seth, before living on the streets and struggling with drug addiction, before the trial and his probation. _Before_. He was a different person, then. Dreaming was effortless, back then. The future looked bright and full of possibility. He felt invincible, back then.

Everything’s different now. Harder. Imagining the future, any future, doesn’t come easily.

But he’s got something now that he didn’t have a year ago: people by his side who believe in him. That means something.

Scratch that. It means _everything_.

 

 

### VII.

She rings the bell of Alex’s house but it’s Zach who opens the door.

“Welcome back,” he says, pulling her into a hug.

Jess hugs him back. “Thank you, it’s so good to be here!”

“Alex’s making popcorn. Justin and Clay are late.” Zach lets her go and she comes into the house.

“Shocking,” she says. She drops her purse on the couch in the living room, then goes looking for Alex in the kitchen.

He’s standing by the microwave reading the instructions on the back of the popcorn box, but turns to look at her as soon as he hears her come in. “Welcome back to the Land of the Living,” he greets her with a smile. “You look good.”

Her hair is longer and her features more relaxed than when they last saw each other in person. She looks more grown-up but also more carefree. She looks happier. Maybe her parents weren’t so wrong after all about making her spend the whole summer away from Crestmont.

She looks at him. “What did you do to your hair? It’s so cool.”

He runs his fingers through it. It’s still short on the sides, a big longer on top than it used to be, and he still wears it brushed back from his forehead: he’s done hiding his scars. What’s new is the color: the ends are bleached, with some bright red popping up here and there.

“Do you like it? I just had it done this afternoon. Zach hates it,” he says with a smile.

“I don’t hate it.” Zach joins them in the kitchen. He stands next to Alex and ruffles his hair. “I just think it doesn’t really go with our plan of laying low.”

“They’re all going to stare at us anyway,” Jess says. “I’m with Alex: let’s give them something to look at.”

* * *

Justin is standing in front of her. He looks down at his shoes and runs his fingers through his hair. Jess knows him well enough to recognize it as a sign that he’s nervous and it makes her giddy. After spending over two months in the company of her grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins, she’s not used to feeling _desired_.

It could be threatening, triggering. It would be if it was someone else. Someone she doesn’t know and love and trust. Someone other than Justin. Their history is a mess, but she trusts him – not in spite of all that happened but because of it. She wouldn’t be here if she didn’t trust him. If she didn’t trust every one of these boys. If they didn’t make her feel safe.

“It’s good to see you, Justin,” she says.

She touches his arm. He smiles.

“It’s really good to see you, too,” Justin says. He looks at her with those deep blue eyes of his. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too.”

“We should hang out. I mean, I know we’re hanging out _now_ , but I mean just the two of us,” he says. She’s the only girl who’s ever made him feel nervous. She still makes him stumble on his words. “Tomorrow?”

She doesn’t know where she wants their relationship to go, or if she even wants anything other than friendship from him, but she’s not going to worry about that right now. She’s found that it helps, taking it one day at a time. “I promised Chloe a whole day of shopping tomorrow, but maybe after dinner?”

“Maybe after dinner, yeah.”

* * *

She’s missed a lot this summer. She changed, she grew, but so did her friends. They’re the same people, but they’re also not. They’re more themselves. They’re leaving behind the masks they thought they had to wear.

Clay is more relaxed. He fits in more easily. He makes the smartest jokes and she wonders how she missed it so far, how funny he is.

Justin gets quiet sometimes, loses himself inside his mind, but when he laughs, he laughs the loudest of them all. She also notices how he seems to look up to Clay, like a younger brother would, even though he’s actually a few months older.

Zach doesn’t look lonely anymore. He doesn’t look like he’s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looks happier. _Loved_. He looks like someone ready to face whatever life throws at him because he no longer has to do it alone.

Alex is confident in his own skin once again. He’s done with self-pitying, and he looks strong and full of life. He shows his softer side more readily, especially with Zach.

Their relationship has evolved in a way that pictures and phone calls couldn’t convey. When she last saw them, they were both hyper-aware of every time they touched. Something sparked awake inside them every time their hands found each other, every time they kissed, every time Zach slung his arm around Alex’s shoulders or Alex ran his fingers through Zach’s hair. Now every affectionate gesture is familiar. They hold hands without even realizing they’re doing it. They kiss each other quickly on the lips when they think no one is looking. They have inside jokes and a favorite position on the couch. Alex calls Zach _Boyfriend_ (“What do you think, Boyfriend?”) and Zach rubs Alex’s shoulders while they watch a movie.

She likes seeing them like this. Her friends. Her boys.

Happy. Hopeful. Healing.

She feels the same way.

They’re going to be fine, the five of them.

 

 

### VIII.

When you miss five months of school and spend the weeks after going back worrying more about a trial than studying, there is a lot you need to catch up on. Jess managed to stay on top of her schoolwork: she got assignments from her teachers and studied at home. Alex, instead, spent almost a month at the hospital, and even after they released him, even once he was home, he couldn’t start studying right away. They were still adjusting his meds at first, PT took all of his energy, and he simply _didn’t care_. Not at first, at least. It was only as he got better that he started studying a few hours every day. Every _good_ day.

It wasn’t enough: he was too far behind at that point. The school wanted him to repeat his junior year. They said it would benefit him in the long run. After the trial was over and things settled into something resembling normalcy, Principal Bolan called Alex’s parents and told them just that.

Alex couldn’t think of anything that would benefit him _less_ than going through his junior year again. Simply considering the possibility made him anxious. The kind of anxiety that settled deep into his stomach.

His dad’s idea of changing schools sounded even worse. He didn’t want to leave his friends behind, to leave Zach behind. He _needed_ them. They were part of his support system.

He promised to catch up over the summer. He would go to summer school. Even better: Clay had already promised to help him get him up to speed. Zach, too, in all science-related classes.

In the end, Alex’s promises didn’t change the school’s decision – but his doctor’s strong recommendation that they let him start as a senior in September did. He stressed how important it was for Alex to leave his junior year behind and move on, how it was part of his healing process and how committed he was to making up for what he missed.

Principal Bolan found himself backed into a corner. He had to agree to let Alex be a senior. Mrs. Standall was already threatening to expose that the school didn’t care about its students’ mental health and they couldn’t afford the bad publicity right now. He also had to think about the possibility that Alex tried to take his own life again: no matter the circumstances, the school would be blamed and this time there would be no chance of winning a trial.

So he caved.

He called Alex and his parents into his office again and announced that he and Alex’s teachers took into account the special circumstances of the past few months and decided to trust Alex to succeed as a senior next year.

Or, as Alex put it: “They’re scared shitless that I might get my hands on another gun because my suicide would be really _inconvenient_ for them. They’d rather have me kill myself as a senior than a junior because then they can say it wasn’t their fault.”

* * *

Now that the summer break is nearing its end, everyone keeps asking Alex the same question: _Do you feel ready?_

Does he?

From a purely academic point of view, he does. Clay is a better and more patient teacher than most faculty members at Liberty High, and thanks to Zach he thinks he finally understands Biology and Chemistry.

Physically, he feels stronger than he has since what his parents usually refer to as _his Accident_. (As if he shot himself in the head by mistake.) He still relies on the cane but can walk longer distances now without feeling tired and stairs are getting easier to climb. He’s also regained some movement in his left hand and arm, and his balance is much better than it used to be.

His anxiety and depression are under control. He believes he’ll be able to handle the stress of his senior year well enough, and his doctor agrees.

Yes, he does feel ready.

He even looks forward to it, sometimes. He wasn’t lying when he told his doctor that it would help him with closure. Next month, he’ll turn the page and start new. Even better, he’ll get to plan the next chapter: college. Last year, he didn’t care about it. He couldn’t see a future for himself, so what was the point in thinking about it? He’s been making a conscious effort over the last nine months to focus on the present and the future rather than the past, and by now it comes naturally to him. Alex 1.0 rarely mentioned  _next year_  or  _five years from now_ , but Alex 2.0 does. Constantly.

Still. It’s  _school_. And just because  _he_  has changed, it doesn’t mean all the jerks at his school have. He’s  _not_  looking forward to seeing Montgomery and his kind every day. He’s been living in a bubble all summer. A bubble made of long phone conversations with Jess, of Clay’s comic books and playing video games with Justin, of late nights talking about nothing and everything at the same time, of ice cream and Netflix and car rides out of town. A bubble made of Zach: of his body and his kisses, of his smile and the way it fills Alex’s heart with joy every single time. Of concerts and holding hands under the table. Of watching movies on the couch and missing half the scenes because they were kissing. Of old songs and new feelings, of awkward initial sexual experimentation and of fantastic sex. Of wanting him and needing him and loving him.

It’s nice inside the bubble. It’s safe and carefree and just so damn easy.

It would be nice to live his whole life there.

* * *

“Do you feel ready?” Zach asks.

Alex shrugs. “I’m ready. I’d rather take permanent residence on your couch, but I’m ready. You?”

“Same.”


	3. September (Part 1)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not American: all I know about football, I learned from watching _Friday Night Lights _and reading Wikipedia.__

### IX.

There’s this thing Alex does.

It’s not something anyone who knows him would expect him to do. Actually, he was surprised himself when he started doing it. The truth is, he wouldn’t do it for anyone else. But for Zach? Yeah, he’ll do it for Zach.

It started last summer. Zach was feeling down and Alex wanted to brighten up his day a little. It was a small thing, really. A tiny, sweet thing meant to remind him that he wasn’t alone. Alex hoped it would bring him some comfort, maybe get a smile out of him.

He wrote a dozen short messages on small strips of paper, folded them, and hid them around Zach’s bedroom, in his backpack, in his car, even in the pockets of his clothes.

_We’ll always have Neverland._

_You can ALWAYS talk to me. Yes, even if you have to wake me up._

_You make me wanna listen to love songs. Like, really sappy, mushy ones._

Zach smiled every single time he found one. Sometimes Alex was there to see it, sometimes Zach would text him to let him know that he found another one and that Alex was _the fucking best_. Every so often, stupid, little things are the ones that mean the most.

And so it went on with new messages and new hiding places. A new one every day. Sometimes two, just to mix it up.

_Love you so fucking much_ , July 26th, on the dashboard of Zach’s car.

_(Inappropriately) thinking about you_ , August 5th, in the back pocket of Zach’s jeans.

_Close your eyes and think about last night_ , August 17th, under Zach’s pillow.

_You are better than pizza. (Like, fucking_ good _pizza.)_ , September 1st, inside the front pocket of Zach’s backpack.

Sometimes Zach finds it right away. A couple of times he even caught Alex trying to sneak one inside a drawer or into his car. And then, other times, it takes him all day.

Like today.

Zach texts Alex.  
  
Zach: Where is it??! I can’t find it! I looked EVERY-FUCKING-WHERE!  
(11:17 PM)  
Alex: how have you not found it yet?  
(11:17 PM)  
Zach: Where IS it, Alex?  
(11:24 PM)  
Zach: I’m not going to bed until I find it  
(11:25 PM)  
Alex: we have school tomorrow  
(11:25 PM)  
Zach: I KNOW!  
(11:26 PM)  
  


Alex calls him. Zach picks up right away: “Alex, I’m not joking, neither of us is going to bed until I find it.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t found it yet. We start school tomorrow.”

Zach is going through his closet, checking the pockets of every single item of clothing he owns. “I don’t care.”

“Yeah, I got that,” Alex laughs. “Where are you?”

“Bedroom.”

“Are you ready for school?” Alex says, trying to give him a hint.

Zach is wondering why pants need so many pockets. He doesn’t want to talk about _school_. “Fuck school.”

Alex rolls his eyes. “No, Zach… Check inside your notepad.”

He hears a loud noise when Zach spills the entire contents of his backpack onto the bed. Some paper shuffling follows, then comes Zach’s quiet laugh. “I feel cheated out. I spent an hour looking for this and it’s…”

“Kind of anti-climatic, uh? Now my best work, I know,” Alex says.

“Yeah, I’m kinda disappointed,” Zach says, but Alex can hear the smile in his voice.

“I’ve got a much better one for tomorrow.”

Zach is still holding the scrap of paper in his hand. The words, in Alex’s handwriting, read _Best summer break ever_. He adds today’s date on the back in black ink. From under the bed, he gets a large shoebox and opens it: he drops Alex’s message inside, on top of all the ones from the weeks before. He’s saving them all. “You better,” he says.

“I’ll make it easy to find as well,” Alex promises.

“Good. See you tomorrow morning. I’ll be there at 7.30.”

“I’ll be… _mostly_ ready to go. Goodnight.”

Zach smiles. “Goodnight, Alex.”

* * *

It’s not a surprise: the school sent out e-mails and the local newspaper wrote about it. Most of their classmates talked about it all summer. But the five of them tried their best to ignore the news: it opened up recent wounds. It wasn’t hard, either, to pretend it wasn’t happening: all they needed to do was not talk about it.

It’s definitely impossible to ignore it now, though, when it’s right in front of their eyes: the school has installed metal detectors.

“Big Brother is watching,” Alex says.

Clay nods and quotes from _1984_ : “Freedom is slavery.”

Justin is less subtle. “This fucking sucks,” he says.

They stand in line and wait for their turn. Most of their classmates complain. A few make jokes about being lucky they left their shooting rifle in their other pants, but they’re a minority. They all know how real the danger is. Just because they think the school’s solution is stupid, it doesn’t mean it’s okay to joke about the problem.

The football coach comes out and rounds up his players to get them in ahead of everyone else because he needs to talk to them before their first period. Zach and Justin smile unapologetically to their friends and follow him inside.

“Glad to see sports are still more important than academics,” Alex remarks. “We wouldn’t want that to change.”

Jess laughs. “You can’t complain about sports anymore, Alex. You’re dating a jock now.”

“F.M.L.”

* * *

“…with every- _fucking_ -body staring at me.”

Zach joins Alex and Clay at the table in the cafeteria. He only hears the last few words of what sounds like a very long speech, but he can tell that Alex is upset.

“What did I miss?” he asks, looking at Alex but forcing himself not to touch him.

“My cane triggers the metal detectors, so I’m going to start every morning with a lovely pat-down from one of our teachers,” Alex sums up.

“Can they even do that?” Zach asks. He subtly rests his hand on Alex’s knee under the table, rubs it for a moment, and then quickly moves it away.

Alex sighs, “Apparently.”

Zach offers him his chocolate pudding. Alex takes it and digs his spoon into it. His day is improving by the minute. “Are you coming to my house later?” he asks.

“I’ve got practice after school but after that I’m all yours,” Zach says.

* * *

Sept 4th, inside Zach’s locker: _You’re my #1 “reason not to”_

 

 

### X.

The lights are bright and the stands are packed with students and families for the first football game of the season. The enthusiasm will die down as the season progresses if the Liberty Tigers start losing game after game like they did last year, but right now everyone is full of hope and school spirit.

Alex, Clay and Jess are sitting together, waiting for the game to start.

“Fair warning,” Clay says. “My parents are here somewhere. They came to see Justin play.”

“That’s sweet,” Jess smiles.

It _is_ sweet. Justin was surprised when they told him: they said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, because to them it was, and he couldn’t believe it, because to him it wasn’t. He was happy, although he tried not to show it too much.

“Yeah, it’s nice,” Clay agrees. “But I’m just saying, they’re down there in the front rows and they’re probably five minutes away from doing something extremely embarrassing for everyone involved.”

Alex looks for them in the crowd: they’re wearing t-shirts in the light blue color of the Liberty Tigers and have a sign with them that probably says some variation of _Go Justin!_

Zach’s mother is sitting not too far from them, with May right by her side. She’s talking with the woman to her right. About Zach, for sure: she looks so proud. May spots Alex watching them and waves at him. He waves back.

“Isn’t embarrassing their children what parents do best?” Alex says.

“My dad called me Daddy’s Cutie Pie in front of everyone at my first game as a cheerleader,” Jess remembers. “That was painful.”

Clay laughs. “If they call Justin _Cutie Pie_ , I’m moving in with one of you guys.”

The cheerleaders take the field.

“Go Chloe!” Jess shouts. She was the one who urged Chloe not to drop cheerleading just because people were talking behind her back, not to let them make the choice for her. Today she’s here to support not only Justin and Zach, but Chloe as well.

Their friendship had a rocky start, but, at some point, Jess realized it was just one more thing Bryce was trying to take away from them, their mutual support. They got past the trial and became friends. Jess was the one holding Chloe’s hand in the waiting room of the abortion clinic, and Chloe was the one telling Jess that Alex would forgive her when he wouldn’t even talk to her after the Spring Fling dance.

Jess looks sternly at Clay and Alex, and they both join her in supporting Chloe.

The players come out of the locker rooms. Justin sees Matt and Lainie first. He smiles and raises his hand to greet them, then looks for his friends. He’s used to having dozens of girls shouting his name, but this is different. The girls make him feel good; his family and friends make him feel loved and supported. It’s a different kind of invincibility.

Zach waves at Alex first, with a smile on his face, then he finds his family in the stands. He should be used by now to seeing only his mother and sister there, but his heart still drops, every single time. Justin pats his back. Zach shrugs the feeling off and gives the game his full attention.

“We’re gonna have to tell your boyfriend to stop smiling at you like that,” Jess whispers, up on the stands. “Half the school now thinks he’s dating _me_.”

“Heteronormative idiots,” Alex whispers back.

They watch the team captains meet with the referee at the center of the field for the coin toss.

“My dad was really happy to know I was going to the football game,” Alex tells his friends while they wait for the kick-off. “He told me it’s great that I’m finally getting interested in sports. Like, I’ve never seen him so proud of me. You’d think I was on the team or something. He has to work today, but I think he will come to the next one.”

It’s ironic. His father is happy that he’s finally interested in something as manly as football, when, really, Alex is only at the game because his boyfriend is on the team. He wonders, not for the first time, how his father would react to that piece of information. He’s positive his dad would not be _proud_ of him.

“If they play as bad as last year, you might just have a shot at making the team,” Jess says.

“Careful, Jess. A few parents look like they’re ready to kill you,” Clay warns.

“Well, they can get in line behind Zach’s fan club.” She looks around: a few parents are staring disapprovingly at her. “It was a joke!” she shouts. “Go Tigers!”

“Zach says they’re not too bad this year. They might actually win a few games,” Alex says. He doesn’t tell her that the only game Zach and Justin really, _absolutely_ , want to win is the one against Bryce’s team next week.

The referee blows the whistle and the Tigers kick off the game.

* * *

They lose the game 42-35, which isn’t so bad considering they played against one of the strongest teams in the area. That’s what everyone encouragingly says, at least.

The Jensens insist on taking them all out for dinner to celebrate the start of the season. They all wait around in the stands as Zach talks to his mother after the game and lets her show him off to the other parents, and then they wait in the parking lot for Zach and Justin to shower and change.

From the happy look on Justin’s face when he sees them all there, you’d think they won the game 61-0 and he scored every single point. He swiftly manages to avoid the girls waiting for him outside and joins his family and friends.

Zach isn’t so lucky: a couple of girls stop him as he makes his way to the cars. Alex watches them flirt with him and touch his arm and laugh at everything he says. He pictures what it would feel like, walking up to them and wrapping his arm around his waist. Kissing him right in front of them.

“Breathe,” Jess reminds him. “They’re harmless.”

“Well, I’m not,” Alex says.

Justin is standing a few feet away with Clay and their parents. He doesn’t hear what Alex and Jess are saying, but he doesn’t really need to. Not with the way Alex is looking at those girls. He laughs, but then he calls, “Zach! We’re starving over here!”

“Coming!” Zach shouts back. He smiles apologetically at the girls and tries to get away. They don’t let him.

“Jess, can you please…?” Alex asks.

“ _Fine_ , but you owe me one.”

Jess walks up to Zach and addresses the girls: “I’m sorry, but I’m gonna have to steal him away now. We’re going out for dinner.”

She takes his arm. “Let’s go, Zachy,” she says out loud as she guides him towards the cars.

He laughs and follows her. “Did Alex put you up to this?” he asks.

“No, I’ve suddenly fallen in love with you,” she says. “It was the football uniform. It couldn’t be helped.”

“I’m sorry, I only date guys with crazy hair.”

They’re standing next to Alex now, and he hears those last few words. “You better,” he says.

* * *

On their way to Wendy’s, Zach stops the car on a quiet street. It’s just him and Alex in the car; Justin is riding with Matt and Lainie, and Jess with Clay. He leans over and kisses him.

“I couldn’t wait to be able to do this,” he says.

“Mhm, same.”

Alex puts his good hand on Zach’s neck and they kiss again.

“Boyfriend? I’m going to need more than this later,” he says.

Zach nods. “Me, too.”

“Food first, though.”

“Always. Let’s go.” Zach gives him one more, quick kiss on the lips, then starts the engine back up.

 

 

### XI.

Do you ever get over a tragedy? Or do you just get better at ignoring it? At pushing it to the back of your mind? One day you wake up and don’t think about it right away. And then, further down the line, you don’t think about for one whole day. Then one whole week. (Then you feel guilty about it.) With time, you make peace with it. You go on with your life.

Sometimes you choose to think about it, sometimes someone else reminds you of it (of _him_ , of _her_ ), and sometimes the memories come back because of a smell, a word, a taste.

A date on the calendar.

That’s the worst, because it’s so arbitrary.

It’s not something they loved, it didn’t mean anything to them. It just _happened_ to be the day they died.

It’s the night _he_ chose to rape you.

* * *

It’s September 9th, and it doesn’t mean anything to a lot of people: it’s just a Sunday. But to some people in Crestmont it’s the day Jeff Atkins died. And to some people in Crestmont it’s the day Bryce Walker raped Jessica Davis at her party.

* * *

Clay and Justin are playing _Call of Duty_ in Clay’s room, like they usually do on Sunday mornings. They had breakfast already, _family breakfast_ , but they’re snacking on cookies all the same.

“Are you okay?” Justin asks after a while.

“No, not today. Are you?”

“No. Not today.”

They play in silence for a few minutes. They let the game distract them. Eat more cookies.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Clay shakes his head no. “Do you?”

“Not even a little,” Justin says.

More shooting on the screen. More virtual deaths of virtual characters to exorcize the real death of one real boy. More virtual fighting, that doesn’t make up for the fact that one year ago Justin should have fought for his girlfriend and didn’t. Couldn’t.

The urge to shoot up is strong today. The voice inside Justin’s head telling him it would be okay, just for today, to take the edge off, is loud. He keeps playing.

“I don’t trust myself today,” he tells Clay. “Don’t leave me alone.”

“I won’t, JJ, not even for a minute.”

* * *

Jess spends the day with Nina and Chloe, who don’t like each other but are willing to act civil today because they both love Jess. They drive out of town, eat ice cream and talk about anything but boys.

She dreaded today. She thought she would fall apart.

She doesn’t.

It’s not like any other day but it’s not the end of the world, either.

Late in the afternoon, Nina drops her off at Monet’s and she sits at a table with Alex and Zach. Zach gets them all hot chocolate and Alex holds her hand while they talk about school and movies they look forward to seeing this fall.

She’s the one who mentions Bryce. Only once, when they’re saying goodbye. Zach parks the car in front of her house and they all get out. The boys hug her, and she tells Zach, “Kick his ass at the game on Friday.”

She doesn’t say his name. She can’t, not today. But she doesn’t need to.

Zach nods. “You got it.”

* * *

She looks for Justin on Monday morning at school. They both have lunch fifth period. She takes his hand and he follows her to an empty classroom. They sit on a desk next to each other; she places her hand over his heart and rests her head on his shoulder.

She couldn’t be with him yesterday, but today she’s letting him know that she’s forgiven him.

Justin holds her tight and, for the first time, the voice in his head, the voice called Addiction, shuts up.

 

 

### XII.

May is soft-spoken and seems to walk on tiptoes even around her own house. Zach can be quiet, too, but only when he sits still. If he moves, he makes noise. Usually a lot of it. His sister, instead, could sneak up on a ninja. Luckily, the door of her bedroom opens and closes with a loud and very distinctive _click_.

As soon as they hear it, Zach and Alex stop kissing. Alex lets go of Zach's hair and Zach moves away so he's no longer straddling Alex. By the time May is halfway through the stairs and has a clear view of the living room and the couch, they've put some space in between them.

If she were a couple of years older, if she were a little bit less innocent, she'd pick up on small details and see through their pretense. Alex has a great poker face but he's also holding tight onto the pillow strategically placed on his lap. Zach's body is relaxed, at ease, but his eyes are guilty, and his hair sticks up in weird places.

“Alex, could you help me with my history homework?” she asks.

“But I'm your big brother,” Zach says. “I'm supposed to help you with homework.”

“You can help me with math and biology... should I ever need help with those. But Alex helps you with history all the time and so it makes sense to ask him,” she explains.

“You can’t argue with that,” Alex says. He smiles at Zach, just to rub it in, then pats the seat to his right and sets aside the pillow he was holding: your boyfriend's little sister asking for help with her homework is an instant mood-killer.

May sits cross-legged next to Alex and shows him the assignment.

Zach looks at them. It's unusual for May to ask anyone but Zach for help. He's proud of Alex for gaining her trust like that. But it's more than that: this is his boyfriend patiently tutoring his little sister. There's a tenderness, a familiarity to it that warms his heart. By asking him for help, May made Alex part of their daily life, part of their family.

He'd like to tell her that. He'd like to tell her that Alex is his boyfriend, not his best friend. She would support him, he’s sure of it. But he cannot tell her until he’s told their mom, because he doesn’t want to ask May to keep his secret. It wouldn’t be right to do that.

He gets up. “I’ll make tea,” he says.

* * *

Mrs. Dempsey is more busy than usual at work this week, so it’s Zach who, after football practice, picks up May from dance class. Alex waits in the car while he goes inside to get her. She’s silent for the whole ride home, and she goes straight to her room without a word as soon as they get there.

“Is she alright?” Alex asks.

“Yeah, she’s just going through a thing,” Zach says. “They organized a Father-Daughter dance at her school, because they just fucking assume that everyone’s got a dad. It’s in a couple of weeks and May… Yeah, she’s not really okay.”

“I’m sorry, it sucks.”

“Yeah,” Zach lowers his head. “I was thinking… It’s stupid, but I was thinking _I_ could take her. Maybe we could go out to dinner before the dance, too, just the two of us, and we’d make a thing out of it and maybe it would be okay, or close to okay. Or maybe we wouldn’t even go to the dance, I could just take her someplace and take her mind off it. But it’s probably stupid.”

Alex feels his heart twinge. This is who his boyfriend is: the kind of guy who takes his little sister to the Father-Daughter dance.

“Zach, it’s not stupid. It’s really, really sweet. You should ask her. I’m sure she’d love it,” he says. He takes Zach’s hand and holds it in his. “Just let her decide whether she wants to go to the dance or do something else, but definitely spend the night with her.”

“You think so?” Zach looks at him. Hopeful. Insecure.

“Yes, totally,” Alex says. “You’re the best big brother in the world, Zach. May is lucky to have you. And I say it as someone with an older brother who made ignoring me into an Olympic sport.”

“I’ll ask her tonight,” Zach decides.

They’re standing facing each other, only a few inches apart. Alex lets go of the cane and holds onto Zach’s arm instead. He’s found that, if he uses Zach’s arm for support and balance, he’s now strong enough to get up on tiptoes and kiss him, so he does just that.

Zach kisses him back right away; he wraps an arm around his waist and the other around his shoulders. He bends down to kiss him again. He takes a couple of steps forward and supports Alex as he tentatively walks backwards; he helps him lower himself onto the couch and then climbs on top of him. He feels Alex’s hand on his back and loses himself into the kiss.

* * *

“Can I come in?” Zach asks, after knocking on May’s door.

“Sure,” she says.

She’s at her desk with her laptop open in front of her. She must have closed the website she was looking at before he came in because all he can see on the screen is Google’s home page. She’s growing up: she didn’t use to do that.

Zach sits down at the foot of her bed. Her collection of plush zebras still takes up most of the space on the bed and he finds it reassuring. She’s the 13-year-old who is beginning to keep secrets from her older brother, but also the 13-year-old who still sleeps with her stuffed animals.

He picks up one of the zebras, one of the larger ones, and turns it around in his hands as he speaks. “I was thinking about the dance at your school,” he says.

“It’s not a big deal.” She looks down at the floor, then at the plush toy in Zach’s hands.

“Well, okay. But how would you feel about getting dressed up and letting me take you to dinner wherever you want, and then maybe going to the dance with me, or maybe skipping it and going for ice cream or, I don’t know, whatever,” he asks.

Her face lights up at the idea. “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

She hugs him tight. “You’re the best big brother in the world.”

“I try,” he says.

“What is Mom going to say?”

She’s not going to like it, that’s for sure. She doesn’t like anything that acknowledges the fact that their dad is gone. But Zach is bent on making this good for May. As good as it can be. Their mother is not going to ruin it.

“I’ll talk to Mom, don’t worry about it,” he promises. “And if she says she doesn’t have time, I know a girl who’d love taking you shopping for a dress.”

He hasn’t asked her yet, but he’s sure Jess would be happy to do it.

 

 

### XIII.

It’s Friday night and the Liberty Tigers are playing against Hillcrest, Bryce’s new school.

The tension in the locker room was palpable. The team was divided between those who, like Monty, were still loyal to Bryce in spite of everything, and those who, like Justin and Zach, would have liked nothing better than to punch the guy in the face. But now that they’re standing on the field under the spotlights, all dressed in the same uniform, with their friends and families cheering them on, they feel united once again. They are all Tigers right now and they’re going to work together to win the game.

The two teams are evenly matched and the score is tied at half-time.

In the stands, sitting next to his father, Alex holds Jess’s hand. She almost didn’t come to the game, but then reminded herself that she already faced Bryce and only felt stronger for it. She texts Chloe, who faked a headache and skipped the game but asked Jess to keep her updated.

Jess texts Chloe.  
  
Jess: 17-17 at half-time  
Chloe: FUCK. They better step it up  
  


Alex is half-listening to his father explaining to him why the final action before the break was particularly well-executed on the Tiger’s side. He doesn’t really care about the technicalities of the game, but he lets his father talk and nods along because it makes him happy.

Clay comes over to talk to them. “My mom is this close to getting thrown out. I’d never heard her use that kind of language before. It’s like she’s a whole other person,” he says.

“Can you blame her? Those bastards are playing dirty,” Jess says.

“Yeah, did you see the hit Zach took ten minutes in?” Alex asks. His heart missed a couple of beats, until he saw Zach get back up and shake it off.

“Everybody saw it… except the referee, apparently.”

The teams get back on the field. Clay goes back to his family and Jess stands up and cheers loudly. She feels Bryce’s eyes on her, burning through her skin. She gathers all her courage and stares back at him. He looks away first.

They start playing again. Both teams are giving it their all. A big Hillcrest player, #24, grabs Justin’s jersey as he runs downfield with the ball and throws him off balance. The referee doesn’t see it or pretends not to; the football, somehow, still ends up in Zach’s hands. He sprints forward and scores a touchdown. Alex feels a rush of pride as the scoreboard changes to say 23-17.

And then, barely two actions later, it happens.

Zach gets violently tackled to the ground and doesn’t get up.

The football was on the other side of the field so it’s obvious to everyone that the Hillcrest player meant to hurt Zach, not stop him from scoring. “This is from Bryce Walker,” he tells Zach before walking away.

Justin is the first one by Zach’s side. Zach is holding his right ankle with a distressed look on his face. Alex, heart beating furiously in his chest, sees them exchange a few words, then Zach takes Justin’s hand and allows him to pull him up. He crosses the field slowly, leaning onto Justin and favoring his right foot.

Alex wishes he could go to the bench and check in on him. He’s walking, so it can’t be too bad, but he wouldn’t walk off the field if he wasn’t injured. He looks to his left, a few rows below them, where Mrs. Dempsey is sitting alone. He can’t see her face, but her body is tense with worry. Jess holds his hand tighter.

“Was it Bryce?” Alex asks. He didn’t even see the other player, he could only see Zach.

“No, he doesn’t get his hands dirty like that. But I bet he’s behind it,” Jess says. She doesn’t say anything more because Alex’s father is right there next to them.

Zach sits down on the bench. Bryce runs up to him as the assistant coach starts taping his injured ankle.

“Fuck off, Bryce,” shouts Justin.

“Calm down, I just came to check in on our Zachy. How’re you doing, Dempsey?” Bryce asks, all fake concern and with an even faker smile on his face. Justin wants nothing more than to punch him.

“I’m all right, I’ll be right back on the field to score some more touchdowns,” Zach shouts back.

Bryce doesn’t back down. And he plays dirty, too: “I hope your mom isn’t too worried, all alone up there on the stands.”

His words hit Zach right where it hurts. Forget his injured ankle, it’s his heart that stings. As if football wasn’t already inevitably and forever laced with memories of his father.

The assistant coach stops him from getting up and hitting Bryce. Their teammates hold Justin back as he tries to do the same thing.

“Wrong bench, Walker. This isn’t your team anymore,” the coach reminds him. He turns to Zach and asks, “Are you hurt or are you injured?”

“I can play,” Zach says, pushing himself up. He takes a few steps, testing his ankle. It’s painful but not overly so. There doesn’t seem to be much damage and he can play through the pain. “Put me back in, Coach. I can play. I want to play.”

Alex doesn’t know whether he should be relieved or concerned when he sees Zach step back on the field. He’s limping slightly but he looks okay. He’s slower than usual, a bit more careful in his movements, but he gives everything and then some.

Hillcrest manages to tie the game again, but then the Tigers score twenty points in seven minutes and win the game 43-24. What really hurts Bryce isn’t the score, but the hug between Justin and Zach after the referee blows the final whistle.

* * *

Zach doesn’t have a say in what happens after the game. One minute he’s in the parking lot with his boyfriend and their friends making plans to celebrate the victory and anticipating being finally alone with Alex, the next his mother is in front of him, looking at the way he’s standing – one hand on Justin’s shoulder for support, most of his weight on his good foot, the injured one barely touching the ground – and making the unilateral decision to take him to the ER to get his ankle checked out. He tells her it’s just a sprain, that all he needs is an ice pack, but she uses his full name against him. There’s no arguing against that.

She starts making plans, trying to figure out how to take him to the ER but still pick up May from dance class on time. Zach is about to suggest they get May first and then decide whether they should even go to the hospital, when Mr. Standall offers to take him.

“Karen, really, it’s no problem,” he assures. “It’s the least I can do after everything Zach’s done for Alex.”

And so Zach ends up in the backseat of a cop car on his way to the hospital. More specifically, his boyfriend’s dad’s cop car.

At least Alex is sitting right next to him.

* * *

“It's just a sprained ankle,” Zach announces as he comes out of the examination room. “I could have wrapped it myself.”

Alex, sitting next to his dad in the waiting room, points at his crutches. “I suppose those are decorative?”

“Shut up. I was right.”

“Well, my mom's a nurse and I've heard horror stories about untreated injuries leading to, like, death or something.”

Zach wants to ask how high the risk of death from a twisted ankle can be, but Mr. Standall interrupts their banter. “I know, Zach, but your mom was worried. Have you called her?”

“I texted her.”

Mr. Standall mumbles something about teenagers and their texting, then takes his phone and announces he’s going to call Karen himself. He moves to a quieter corner of the room and leaves Zach and Alex alone.

Zach takes a seat next to his boyfriend. “Stop looking at me like that, I’m fine. Ice, Ibuprofen, a few days of rest, and I’ll be as good as new,” he says.

Alex seems to relax. “Were you jealous of my cane?” he asks.

“I can’t help it, it's sexy,” Zach smiles at him.

They talk about the game with Mr. Standall as they walk, limp and hobble back to the car. When they get in, Alex asks his father if he wants to handcuff them, too.

“Alex, you've been making the same joke since you were five years old,” his dad says with a smile.

Alex misses the smile completely because he's looking at Zach, who's laughing. How can you not fall in love with someone who laughs at your stupid jokes? He'd like to kiss him right there and then but it wouldn't be the best way to come out to his dad.

“Where to, boys? Zach, I can take you home or somewhere else if you want to celebrate with the team, or you're welcome to join us for dinner, of course,” Mr. Standall says.

Zach looks at Alex, who shrugs: “Up to you.”

The adrenaline from the game is winding down and Zach is starting to register how tired he is. The doctor at the ER spending a good five minutes poking and prodding at his injured ankle also hasn’t helped with his pain levels. “I'm tired and I better rest my ankle tonight,” he says. “We'll celebrate with Justin tomorrow. Dinner and then a movie in your room?”

Mr. Standall notices how Alex has automatically been included in Zach's plans to celebrate despite not being part of the team. He also notices how their shoulders and knees are touching even though there's plenty of space in the backseat. He's a cop, he's trained to notice details like that. If he just asked himself the right question, he would _know_. But he doesn't because denial can be such a sweet place to be. He tells himself he's happy his son finally has a guy best friend and what does he know about how boys interact with each other these days.

Alex is smiling. “Good plan. But I get to pick the movie.”

“I won a football game tonight.”

“So? You picked the last one and it sucked.”

Zach cannot argue with that, but he still doesn't give up. “I'm injured.”

“I thought you said it was nothing,” teases Alex but then Zach looks straight at him with puppy-dog eyes and he doesn't stand a chance. “Alright, alright. But if it sucks you lose your movie picking privileges forever.”

Zach would like to tell him he has no intention of watching the movie. That as soon as the door closes he's going to kiss him until they're both out of breath. That he's just going to pick a movie with loud music and gunshots to play in the background. He smiles at Alex and says, “We're gonna have fun, I promise.”

* * *

“Race you upstairs?” Zach challenges after dinner. He takes Alex's arm to help him get up. Once Alex is standing and leaning onto his cane, he grabs his crutches and gets up as well.

“At least give me a head-start,” Alex slowly makes his way towards the staircase and starts climbing the steps. Zach hops along and stays right next to him the whole time, only passing him when they are a few feet away from the bedroom.

Alex closes the door of his bedroom behind him. He wishes, not for the first time, that he had a lock like Clay does. His parents would probably kick the door down if he ever installed one.

Zach is already sprawled out on the bed. “I won,” he whispers when Alex lies down next to him.

“If you mean the football game, yes, you did and I'm proud of you. If you mean the race I don't know what you're talking about because there was no race,” Alex says.

“I meant the race, but I don't even care, I just want a kiss,” Zach gets closer to him until their noses are almost touching.

Alex kisses the corner of his mouth, smiles, then kisses him fully on the lips. “How's the ankle?” he asks.

“It throbs but the painkillers your mom gave me help. It's gonna be worse tomorrow,” Zach says.

“This one, too.” Alex lifts Zach's t-shirt and reveals a bruise on his hip, courtesy of the bad hit he took during the first quarter.

“I've got more.” Zach sits up, takes off his t-shirt and starts pointing proudly at the bruises on his shoulders, arms and back.

Alex runs his hand over the bruised skin. Lightly, gently, but not shyly: it's a familiar gesture, it's well-known territory. He's spent the summer exploring Zach's body. Day after day, hesitant fingers gained confidence, uncertain lips claimed ownership – the sweeter kind of ownership, the kind that doesn't say _He is mine_ , but rather _He belongs with me_.

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Alex asks.

“Because football is fun.”

“So are videogames and they don't punch you in the ribs,” Alex counters. His hand ghosts over the constellation of black and blue marks on Zach's chest.

Zach smiles and says, “What game _did_ you watch? There's no punching in football.” He takes Alex's hand and brings it to his lips to kiss it.

“Maybe there should be. Bryce deserved a few good punches,” Alex squeezes Zach's hand. “Did you see him pat his teammate on the back, the one who hurt your ankle, after he came over to you?”

“No, I was busy convincing Coach to let me keep playing.” Zach squeezes Alex's hand back. Alex pulls him lightly towards him. Zach indulges him and lies back down next to him.

Alex kisses him.

“Maybe that wasn't the best idea.”

“We won, didn't we?”

“Yeah,” Alex smooths Zach's hair back. “But you're hurt.”

“I'll be stiff for a couple of days, that's all.” Zach moves his hand slowly up and down Alex’s side. “It was worth it.”

Alex kisses him again on the lips, then on the shoulder. “You should put your t-shirt back on. My parents don’t always knock,” he reminds Zach.

Zach groans but then obliges. Alex doesn’t miss the soft wince he lets out when he raises his arms. He could tell him he’s an idiot for doing this to himself, instead he reaches out and rubs his back.

Before he started dating Zach, he wasn’t the kind of guy who did that. He still isn’t, as a matter of fact, except with Zach. He lets his friends hug him but doesn’t hug them first, he doesn’t look for physical contact, he feels awkward putting his hand on someone’s shoulder or touching their hair. It’s different with Zach, though. It feels so natural to touch him. They cannot do it often because only their closest friends know that they’re dating – and so, whenever they are allowed to do it, they do it constantly. Small kisses, arms wrapped around each other, hands lazily, tenderly moving up and down each other’s arms or back. Making up for all the times when they have to be careful about even smiling at each other. Catching up on all the tender moments they miss out on.

Zach smiles at Alex, then lies back down and kisses his temple. “I probably won’t be able to drive us anywhere for a couple of days,” he sighs. “But tomorrow my mom’s taking May to get her hair cut and to buy some new clothes so they’ll be out all afternoon. You can come over and tell me I’m an idiot and football is stupid every time I complain about my ankle.”

“I’ll come over, but how about I don’t say anything and just kiss you?”

“Every time I complain?” Zach bites his bottom lip. Not provocatively, either, not on purpose at least, but Alex still can’t help but kiss him.

“Every time,” Alex whispers against his lips.

They hear footsteps up the stairs and quickly sit up and put some distance between them. It’s a practiced move, by now, like the one on Zach’s couch. The first time, months ago, Zach pulled back so hastily that he fell off the bed. When Alex’s mom walked by his room, she heard Alex laugh so hard he couldn’t catch his breath. She stood there and listened to it, then quietly went back downstairs because she hadn’t heard Alex laugh like that in years and she didn’t want to interrupt that. His happiness.

They are both quiet now, though, when she knocks and then opens the door. They are pretending to pick a movie to watch and they are almost convincing.

“I brought you an ice pack, Zach,” she says, handing it to him.

“Thank you, Carolyn.”

“You should keep it elevated.”

“I will. Thank you,” he says again.

She wonders, like she always does, if she should say something. If she should tell them that she _knows_. Ask them if they want to talk. She decides, like she always does, to do it tomorrow. “Let me know when I should drive you home, okay?”

“Actually,” Alex draws a nervous breath. “I think we’re going to finish the movie kinda late. Would it be okay if Zach slept over?”

She can see by Zach’s reaction that they didn’t plan it. She wants to say no, because she still hasn’t figured out what the rules should be when your son is secretly dating his best friend. But she can’t say no to Alex these days.

“Of course,” she says. “If you mom is okay with it, Zach, of course.”

“I’ll call her, but I think it’ll be okay,” Zach promises.

“Good. I’ll make the bed in Peter’s room,” she says. She figures it sounds like a good rule: her son’s boyfriend can sleep over, but not in the same room.

“Thanks, mom,” Alex says, because he can’t think of a good reason why Zach should sleep in his room instead. He wonders, not for the first time, if his mom knows about them, if she guessed they’re not just friends, even though they’ve been careful. He dismisses the thought because he can’t deal with it right now.

She leaves.

“I forgot about my brother’s room,” Alex admits.

Zach places the ice pack on his ankle, then kisses on his lips. “It doesn't matter,” he says, before kissing him again. He's almost positive that Alex's mouth is addictive. “I get to kiss you goodnight. And I could always sneak into your room once your parents are asleep.”

“Or not,” Alex says. “Since, you know, my dad sleeps with a gun within arm-reach and you're not exactly sneaky even when you've got two working legs.”

“Okay, fine.”

“They are both working tomorrow morning, though,” Alex says.

There's a question in there that he's not asking, but Zach answers it anyway: “I'll get into your bed as soon as I hear their cars leaving.”

“Good,” Alex smiles. “I can’t wait.”

* * *

Zach wakes up late the next day. He looks at the time on his phone: 10.30am. Alex’s parents must have left for work already; he gets up and hops to Alex’s room only to find it empty.

“Alex?” he calls.

No reply. He makes his way downstairs. The house is empty. He plops down on the couch, dropping the crutches on the floor, and calls Alex.

“Good morning,” Alex says after the third ring.

“It would be if you were here. Where _are_ you?”

“On my way back. Give me five minutes, ten tops.”

Zach decides to make coffee while he waits, so Alex finds a hot cup on the kitchen table when he comes back. Zach is sitting there nursing his own mug.

“Good morning, Boyfriend,” Alex says. He drops a paper bag on the table and then gets closer to Zach. He brushes his hair back and bends over for a coffee-flavored kiss. “Since when do you sleep past 8am?”

“Since when are you up before 11am on a Saturday of your own free will?” Zach counters.

“I went to the bakery down the road to get us some breakfast.”

Zach grabs the paper bag and looks inside. “I’m starving, you’re the best,” he says.

“How’s your ankle?” Alex asks as they eat pastries and sip coffee.

“Hurts,” Zach admits. “But I’ll live.”

Alex kisses him on the shoulder, right next to a black-ish bruise. “I say we finish breakfast and then get back into bed with some ice for your foot. What do you think, Boyfriend?”

“Boyfriend approves.” Zach shifts in his seat to find a more comfortable position. He’s sore. If Alex wants to take care of him today, he has no objection. He’ll go home tonight and reassure his mom that he’s fine, and then on Monday morning he’ll act tough and shrug it all off as bumps and bruises. But now, right now, it feels good to have someone – to have _Alex_ take care of him.

Out on the field, he can play through the pain. He played an entire quarter with a broken hand during his freshman year. His mom was ready to break his other hand and both of his coach's arms when she found out, but he wouldn't have had it any other way. That's from the game-time adrenaline rush, though. Once that's over, he's left with pain and discomfort. Worry, too: he can't afford to get injured this year.

He eats a second croissant, quietly lost in his thoughts.

“You're not usually quiet in the morning. That's me,” Alex says. “What’s going on?”

“I’m just… spinning.”

“Talk to me, Zach.”

Zach, not Boyfriend, because this is serious.

“It’s easy to feel invincible out there,” Zach says. They suit up like warriors, take the field by storm, stand united, and get showered with applause. How do you not feel like a gladiator, or a _god_? How do you not feel bulletproof? “I forgot how easy it is to get hurt. This is fine, this is nothing, but I’ll have to be more careful as we get closer to basketball season.”

Alex can't promise him that everything will be okay. They don’t know that; if anything, they know that life has a habit of smiling at you, looking at you right in the eye, and then stabbing you through the heart. The cold-blooded bitch.

He strokes his back. “Try not to worry about it too much.”

“We can always move to Neverland, right?” Zach smiles.

“That's always an option.” Alex drinks the last of his coffee. “How about we move to my bedroom now, though?”

“Yeah, let's do that.”


	4. September (Part 2)

### XIV.

Alex throws his backpack onto the backseat of Clay’s car, then climbs in, not without effort.

“You know, Zach usually parks in the driveway, gets my backpack, opens the door for me, and helps me get in,” he says. “I’ll complain about this replacement service. I’m not even getting my morning kiss.”

“It’s Zach’s fault, he has you spoiled rotten,” Justin says.

“Yeah, I’m not kissing you. But I’ll drive you to your morning kiss right now,” Clay says. Since Zach’s ankle is still healing, he offered to drive both him and Alex to school on Monday morning. He puts the car in reverse and backs out of the parking spot in front of Alex’s house.

“So, are we all set for tomorrow night?” Alex asks as Clay makes a left towards Zach’s house.

“Our parents agreed to go out, so the house is all ours,” Clay says.

Justin turns around to look at Alex. “Yeah, and we’re getting food and drinks tonight after football practice. Jess said she’s going to bake some cupcakes. Fuck, I still can’t believe that she _bakes_ now. Do we need cake, too?”

“It’s a birthday party, of course we need cake. I’ve got that. I asked May which one is his favorite and my mom is picking it up from the bakery tomorrow morning,” Alex says.

“Your mom? Wait, is it going to be a gluten-free, dairy-free, flavor-free, fun-free…?”

“No!” Alex reassures them. “It’s a regular cake. With whipped cream, icing, caramel, and, like, three different kinds of chocolate. Oh, and I got some balloons to decorate. Remind me to give them to you tomorrow morning.”

Justin snickers. “Balloons? You know he’s turning eighteen, not eight, right?”

“What’s wrong with balloons?” Clay asks.

“Yeah, Justin, you’re never too old for balloons.”

“Alright, alright, sorry. We’ll put up the fucking balloons.”

Zach is already outside when Clay stops the car in front of his house. Justin lowers the window. “I’m feeling generous this morning. I’ll let you giant ride in the front seat if you want,” he offers.

“Nah, thanks, I’d rather be in the back with Alex,” Zach says. He gets in the car and smiles at his boyfriend. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Boyfriend.”

As soon as they’re no longer within sight of his house, Zach leans in and kisses him.

“Finally,” Alex whispers before kissing him back.

* * *

The weekend can’t come soon enough.

This isn’t an unusual thought for Zach to have: he loves after-school activities, but everything that comes before them is _such a drag_. This week, though, there’s an extra reason for him to wish it was Friday night already: since his birthday falls on a Tuesday this year, he and his friends decided to celebrate it on Saturday.

So, today, in spite of all the birthday wishes he got (and a very special birthday make-out session with Alex in Clay’s car early in the morning, complete with Clay and Justin begging them to stop), in spite of all that, today just doesn’t feel like his birthday. Instead, he’s looking forward to Saturday night like a kid to Christmas morning.

The last time he had a birthday party he was seven. There were a magician, a birthday cake with blue frosting, and a couple dozen kids from his class. A few weeks later, he found out that his mother had blackmailed the parents of the other kids into coming. He didn’t want to have any more birthday parties after that.

Everybody seems to forget that he hasn't always been popular. Nobody seems to remember the skinny, awkward kid who ate lunch alone every day. It's as if he never existed. As if Zach – the tall, athletic teenager with a winning smile – appeared one day out of thin air. As if he didn't spend an entire summer training hard.

But he remembers the loneliness, the afternoons spent in his bedroom painfully aware that everyone else was out having fun together, the dark feeling of envy deep in his gut whenever he looked at the popular kids – so carefree in their happiness, so confident already of their place in the world, innocently unaware of their own luck. He was never bullied; he was simply ignored. In his mind, it was almost worse: if they mess with you, at least it means they see you. That you are not invisible.

He surprised everyone, himself included, his freshman year, when he aced the basketball tryouts. With basketball came the friends and the popularity that had always been out of reach before. Or, more accurately, with basketball came the popularity and with it the friends.

Bryce was the first to welcome him at their table, with a simplicity that seemed to imply that it had always been Zach's place, that it had been Zach's choice so far to sit alone. Zach was eager to accept, but also aware that he'd still be invisible to them if he wasn't good at shooting a ball through a basket.

He was still awkward, at first. Confidence didn't come overnight like his place at the cool table. He still felt like he didn't belong, and that feeling never went away completely. But he learned how to speak like them, how to act like them, how to walk with their same confidence down the halls and how to look like the world belonged to him. After a while, he only occasionally felt like an impostor.

There was someone else who, albeit rarely and only for a split second, would get that same insecure look in his eyes: Justin. He usually acted like royalty, but all it would take was a well-chosen word from Bryce for the cracks in his armor to show. Bryce always knew exactly what to say to put them all back in their place and to remind them that they were only there because he allowed them to be.

Zach and Justin never talked about that. Boys don't talk about that, about the things that make them feel insecure. (Maybe not just boys, maybe all teenagers. Maybe nobody over the age of eight does.) Although their feelings never found their way into words, their unspoken connection still pulled them together and they became close friends. Zach even started thinking of Justin as his best friend. It didn't even matter – not really, not most days – that Justin's best friend was Bryce and not Zach.

When Alex joined their group during their sophomore year, Zach envied him. Here was this boy who played jazz rather than football, who didn't dress or talk like them, who sometimes even called them out on their bullshit – and he was welcome to hang out with them all the same. No mask required for Alex.

Zach felt like they could become good friends, the two of them, if only Zach dared drop his own mask. But he didn't. Not until _after_. Until it was almost too late.

Last year, for his birthday, Bryce got him a six-pack and everybody cheered him on as he drank them one after the other, not because he wanted to but because it was what he was supposed to do. What everyone expected him to do. The price to pay for being part of the group.

This year is going to be different.

He’s got friends now, real friends, who truly care about him and around whom he can be himself. They’re not even going to do anything special on Saturday: Tex-Mex food, a movie, and then they’ll find a place to hang out. They don’t need to do anything special in order to have a good time.

It doesn’t matter that he’s going to spend his actual birthday alone. Really, it doesn’t. It’s nobody’s fault that it falls on a Tuesday, that Alex has a family dinner with his grandparents, that Justin and Clay need to study, that Jess has “girl things” to do, that May has dance class and his mom is at work. It doesn’t matter.

Alright, maybe it matters, just a little, but Saturday will make up for it. It’s _fine_. It’s good.

* * *

Zach stands on the Jensens’ doorstep next to Alex and rings the bell.

“What did you say you need again?” he asks.

“I need to borrow a book from Clay. I forgot the paper’s due in two days. I’ll have to sneak into the bathroom during dinner tonight to read it.”

Zach rubs his arm. “Call me if you need moral support.”

“I probably will,” Alex says.

The door opens.

“Happy birthday!” Clay pushes half a dozen colorful balloons into Zach’s arms.

There are more inside, hanging from the walls and the ceiling. There’s also a homemade banner that says _Happy birthday, Zach! We love you!_ In the living room, on the coffee table, there is a wide selection of chips, snacks and sodas, as well as a tray of vanilla cupcakes with chocolate frosting and sprinkles.

Zach takes it all in. Smiling. A warm, soft feeling in his chest. “Guys, I thought...”

“We lied,” Alex says. “Surprise!”

Zach pulls him into a hug and kisses him, then looks at Clay, Justin and Jess. “Come here, I wanna hug you all.”

“Do we also get a kiss?” Clay asks, as he joins the group hug.

“No, he only kisses me.”

Given the choice, Zach wouldn’t even need time to think before choosing this over popularity again. And again and again and again.

 

 

### XV.

Zach ditched the crutches half-way through Monday and now, on Wednesday afternoon, he’s back at practice. In the locker rooms, he tapes his ankle and lets Monty’s mama’s boy comments slide over him. Then, on the field, he gives 100%. Monty’s words may not hurt, but they do make him feel like he’s got something to prove. He wonders if that feeling will ever go away.

They play a scrimmage game, offense vs. defense. It’s supposed to make them stronger, to help them learn how to communicate better, to make them a more united team, but with Zach and Justin on offense and Monty and his friends on defense, the players quickly polarize. Both sides play so hard that their coaches have to stop them multiple times to avoid injuries.

The tension keeps building up, until Monty makes a particularly rough and unnecessary tackle on Zach.

“What the fuck, Monty?!” Zach roars. “Fuck you!”

“Why? Doesn’t _your boyfriend_ let you fuck him?” Monty shoots back with a mean smile on his face.

Zach’s blood freezes in his veins. The words knock the air out of his lungs, worse than the tackle did. It takes him a moment to realize that Monty doesn’t know about Alex. He’s just a bully with a taste for homophobic comments.

He gets back up and uses his full height against his teammate. “How about we focus on the game instead,” he says before walking away to get back in position.

* * *

“We’re going for ice cream,” Alex decides when Zach comes out of the locker room looking tired and sullen and limping slightly.

“I’m not sure ice cream will help,” Zach says. “Kicking the shit out of Monty might, though.”

“I’d love to see that. I’d love to help, in fact, but it’s not an option. Ice cream _will_ help, trust me.” Alex starts walking down the hallway. “And you can tell me about every shitty thing Monty did.”

Zach follows him. “I hate that he’s on the team. He makes every practice feel like hell.”

“Well, you’re not going to like this, but you could just quit, you know?”

“I don’t want to quit. It’s my last year playing football. I want this season,” Zach says. Come next year, he’ll focus on basketball alone. He loves basketball, but that doesn’t mean he’s not going to miss football. Bryce, Monty and their friends already took baseball from him. They’re not getting football, too. “You never played sports so you don’t get it, but I love playing. It’s one of the few things in my life that come easy: when I’m on the field, I know what to do.”

Alex lets out a bitter laugh. “You’re right, I don’t know what it’s like to play football or whatever, but don’t think for a second that I don’t know how you feel. You think I don’t miss playing my guitar?”

Zach’s hand rests on Alex’s elbow for a few seconds. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

Alex sighs. “Which means I also get why you don’t want to quit the team. I just hate seeing you like this.”

“It’s not like he’d leave me alone even if I did quit the team,” Zach says. They step out in the parking lot and walk to his car. He’s right, of course: Montgomery doesn’t save his bullism for the locker room or the football field, he makes sure to spread it to the hallways and classrooms as well. He’s generous like that.

They get in the car but Zach doesn’t start the engine. “It’s different than before. The gay jokes, the homophobic jokes, they hurt differently. _More_.”

“I know,” Alex says, looking out the windows to check that no one is around before taking his hand. “Before it was an attack on our… masculinity or whatever. Now it’s personal. It’s an attack on who we are.”

Zach holds his hand tighter. “Yeah.”

“Maybe we should just… tell them. Tell them all. Stop hiding,” Alex says. He’s uncertain at first, but as he speaks his voice gains confidence. “Like, fuck them. They’re the ones who have a problem with it, why should we be the ones hiding?”

“Because we would be the ones facing the consequences.” Zach shakes his head. “Alex, I’m sorry, I can’t. You’re brave, I’m not.”

“You are. If you weren’t, you wouldn’t be holding my hand right now,” Alex says. He holds it tighter. “But you’re right. I am not ready to come out at school. We need to tell our parents first anyway.”

Zach looks at their hands, then out the window at the parking lot. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that either.”

“Me neither,” Alex admits. “Let’s just eat some ice cream right now.”

Zach lets go of his hand and starts the car. “Ice cream, I can do.”

* * *

One minute, Alex and Clay are standing in the hallway complaining about their third period’s teacher, the next they’ve been shoved against the wall. Alex loses his balance and falls to the floor.

“My bad,” Montgomery says. “I didn’t see you girls standing there.”

His new best friend, Willem, is right beside him. “Careful, Monty, we wouldn’t want them to get sad and kill themselves. Their boyfriends would be so upset.”

“Say, Clay, is Justin your boyfriend or just a blow whore? Does he let Alex fuck him, too, or does he draw the line at cripples?”

Alex knows he should keep silent. If he doesn’t engage with them, they’ll get bored and leave. He knows that. But they’re pushing his buttons, hitting him right where it hurts. He was never the type to shut up anyway. “The 60s called: they want their homophobic, ableist jokes back.”

“Oh, Monty, do you think we hurt their _feelings_? Are you gonna cry about it, Standall?”

Clay helps Alex back up. He doesn’t let go of his arm: he’s afraid if he does Alex will end up punching Monty. Or maybe _he_ will if they say another mean thing about Justin. “They’re not worth it, Alex,” he says, although he’s not sure he believes it himself. Giving them both a black eye might be worth a talk with Principal Nolan.

“Don’t you have a meeting of Bryce’s Fan Club right now?” Alex asks. “What are you called again? Little Rapists?”

Monty takes a step forward, fists clenched. Willem pulls him back and nods at their coach walking towards them. “Careful.”

“ _You_ ’re not worth it,” Monty says before walking away.

Alex and Clay look at each other.

“Nothing changed. After everything that happened last year, nothing fucking changed,” Clay says.

“We did.”

Clay shakes his head. “Not good enough.”

“No, it’s not,” Alex agrees.

* * *

Zach tosses Justin his car keys. “You drive,” he says.

“It’s fine. _I_ ’m fine. You don’t need to keep me busy,” Justin replies.

“Well, my ankle hurts so you drive.” Zach gets in the car and adjusts the passenger seat, moving it backward. He _could_ drive. His ankle is sore after the game, but it’s bearable. He’s barely even limping. But Justin could use the distraction, no matter what he says.

Justin pulls the driver seat forward and adjusts the rearview mirror. “Where to, then?”

“Let’s just drive.”

The destination doesn’t matter, the point is getting away from the party. A party they didn’t even want to go to in the first place. Their coach didn't exactly force them to go celebrate their victory together as a team, but he did strongly suggest it. So they went and sat on one side of the room with their friends while Monty and his friends took over the other side.

It wasn’t too bad at first. There was some tension, but they were also having fun. The real problems started when a couple of their teammates got there carrying a large keg of beer.

Justin can be around alcohol. It puts him on edge, like being in the same room with a feral animal – threatening, ready to take him down if he lowers his guard for even one moment – but he can handle it, especially on a good day like today. The persistent offers coming from his teammates, though, were harder to turn down, and their challenges and dares even harder.

Which is why they left and are now driving towards the docks.

Zach turns on the radio. “Are you… are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright now.”

Justin keeps driving until he finds a parking spot. He kills the engine and feels the sudden silence wash over him like a wave. He waits a few seconds before breaking it. “I hate that we had to leave,” he admits.

“We’re not missing much. We’re actually better off this way,” Zach says.

“Yeah, but I wish we’d left because we wanted to, not because we had to. Because _I_ had to.” Justin tightens his grip on the steering wheel. His eyes are shining with shame and anger. “I’m so fucking weak and pathetic.”

Zach wonders if he should call Clay or the Jensens. He doesn’t think it’s that bad, but he can’t be sure. “Justin, man, you’re not,” he says. “You didn’t drink. You’re here with me, you’re not calling your dealer. You’re handling it. And you’ve got us.”

This seems to give Justin some strength. He turns his head to look at Zach. He sits up straighter. He feels more like himself. “That’s the most important thing. You guys,” he says.

“Yeah. And we’ve got your back.” Zach pats Justin’s shoulder.

Justin smiles, then starts the car. “Let’s find the others.”

“Alex was going to your house with Clay. I think Jess is there, too.” Zach takes his phone out of his pocket to text Alex and confirm that they’re still there. “We can play videogames.”

“Jess will hate it.”

 

 

### XVI.

Alex wraps the fingers of his left hand around a plastic cup, grips it tight, picks it up, then slowly moves it from the left to the right side of the table and stacks it neatly on top of an identical one. It looks easy, but his arm is still weak and it actually takes a lot of effort. A month ago, he could only drag it from one side of the table to the other. Now he’s able to lift it: it’s something he had to work really hard for.

He repeats the exercise with another plastic cup, then the last one. Once all four colorful cups are stacked on top of each other to his right, he starts moving them back to the left side of the table one by one. His muscles burn, scream at him to stop, but he refuses to give up.

“Pace yourself,” Zach, sitting at the table in front of him, reminds him. “Don’t rush.”

Alex nods and slows down. He focuses on doing the movement right, on precision over speed. Zach moves his chair around the table and gets closer to him. One hand on Alex’s shoulder, one on the small of his back, he adjusts his posture, making him sit up straighter.

“You’re still going too fast,” he says. He moves even closer, covers Alex’s left hand with his own and guides him through the exercise, slowing down his movement and forcing him to reach a bit higher instead. “This is better.”

“And harder.”

“That’s the point. Four more, c’mon,” Zach encourages. He lets go of his hand and moves back a little. “You’re doing great.”

Alex pushes through the fatigue in his arm and repeats the exercise: one cup, two cups. His hand starts shaking and he almost loses his grip on the third cup. He breathes deeply and keeps going. Three cups. He’s quite sure his arm is about to fall off. Grunting with effort, he repeats the movement one more time, then lets his arm drop to his side.

Zach stands behind him and rubs his neck, then his left shoulder. “You did great.”

They’re alone, so Alex leans back into him and Zach bends over for an upside-down kiss.

“I’ll be able to run very soon if this is the incentive I’m getting.”

Zach keeps rubbing his left arm and shoulder. “I should have started giving you incentives like this sooner,” he says.

“You should have.”

“We should go now, though. You’ve done more than enough for today.”

“I can do a bit more,” Alex says. He’s feeling good today. He feels like he can take on the world. He wants to push himself.

“Not today. You need to rest now. You’ve already done more than yesterday.” Zach sits back down next to him. He brushes Alex’s hair back, then he ruffles it. He quickly kisses him before he can complain about the hair.

“You need to stop doing that,” Alex says.

Zach just smiles. Alex manages not to smile back and looks sternly at him instead.

“And you might as well stop looking at me like that because I will keep doing that anyway.” Zach messes with his hair again, just to make a point. He laughs at the murdering look Alex shoots at him and quickly snaps a picture of him.

Alex rolls his eyes. “How many pictures of me trying to murder you with my mind does that make?”

“Including this one? Close to five thousand, I think,” Zach laughs. “I’ve got the world’s largest collection.”

“You must be very proud of it.”

“I am. I call it my Alex Standall’s Bitchface collection and it’s glorious,” Zach says. “I risked my life multiple times for it.”

Alex laughs. “Maybe I’ll start a collection of videos of me throwing stuff at you.”

“That’s, like, boyfriend abuse.”

“And you messing with my hair isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t,” Zach says, with the most innocent expression on his face. He looks almost convincing. He makes it impossible for Alex to stay mad at him. Even fake mad.

“So,” Alex says a few moments later. “I think I want to tell my mom. This morning she asked me again if I wanted to talk. Like, about anything I wanted. I think she knows I’m hiding something from her. And, yeah, I mean, I _want_ to tell her. I think it’ll be okay. I hope it will.”

Zach rests his hands on Alex’s thigh, close to his knee. “It will be. Your mom’s cool. She’ll be okay with you being gay.”

Alex nods. “And, well, she is your number one fan. I think she loves you more than me,” he jokes. “She’ll probably be thrilled that I’m dating you.”

Zach shrugs. “I just hope she won’t hate me.”

Mrs. Standall – Carolyn, she insisted – is so nice to him. She always has a kind word for him and she seems to make it a point to check in on him periodically. Alex often feels smothered by her, but Zach would like his own mother to be a bit more like Carolyn. Warmer, more caring. Able and willing to talk about things, feelings included.

“She keeps telling me all she wants is to see me happy,” Alex says. “You make me happy.”

He has to believe it will be okay. He cannot think of what might happen if she isn’t okay with it. Could she forbid him to see Zach? Could she throw him out of the house? Would she? Unlikely. But if he even entertains the possibility, he’ll probably get too scared and won’t tell her.

He needs her to know. He’s tired of hiding, of feeling like he’s doing something wrong. Of feeling like his relationship with Zach is something to be ashamed of.

“It will be okay,” he repeats.

“I should be the one telling you it’ll be okay,” Zach says. “I’m sorry. I want to be braver. And I want to tell my mom, too, but I’m scared.”

Alex covers Zach’s hands with his own. “You’ll tell her when you’re ready. I get it. Really, I do. I know it’s scary. It’s why I’m not telling my dad yet.”

“I’m not ashamed of you or us, you know that, right?”

“I know. I mean, why would you be? I’m the coolest.”

There’s a hint of self-hate in Alex’s voice that Zach doesn’t like. He takes Alex’s hand. “You _are_ cool. You’ve always been cool. I was jealous of you from the first time I saw you at school our sophomore year.”

Alex looks at him, skeptical. “ _You_ were jealous of _me_? You’re kidding, right? Basketball star, friends with the most popular kids, fucking amazing body. That was you. I was the weird kid who didn’t fit in anywhere.”

Zach shakes his head. “Do you really think I fit in with Bryce and his friends? I didn’t. I was faking it because I was afraid of being alone. They weren’t my friends. The only reason I was allowed to hang out with them was because of basketball.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have been allowed to even talk to them if you hadn’t invited me to sit with you.”

Zach remembers asking him to have lunch with them, introducing him as his lab partner, looking at Bryce for approval. “I invited you, but Bryce allowed you to stay. I didn’t have that kind of power.”

“Did you really think I was cool?” Alex asks. He still cannot quite believe it.

“Your hair was crazy, but yeah, you were cool.” Zach shrugs. “You didn’t seem to care about what everyone else thought of you.”

“But I did. Very much.”

Zach smiles. “You played in the jazz band, you couldn’t have cared that much.”

“What’s wrong with the jazz band?”

“It’s the _jazz band_.”

“Haven’t we already established that you have no taste in music whatsoever?” Alex can’t help but smile at him. “We should go. Help me up?”

* * *

Alex is sitting at the kitchen table with an English Literature book open in front of him. It’s a warm Wednesday evening in late September and it’s too early in the schoolyear to really worry about studying, even as a senior. He’s not _that_ ambitious. He’s looking at the page, but his mind is somewhere else. He’s not even sure the book is open on the right chapter, but it doesn’t matter because he’s not planning on reading it anyway. He’s only pretending to be studying so he’ll have an excuse to stay in the kitchen. The schoolbook is simply a prop.

He usually retreats to his bedroom the minute he’s finished with dinner, but not tonight. Tonight, he lingered. He helped his mom clear the table (for the first time in forever), asked her when Dad was coming home (late), and then said he was going to do his homework in the kitchen because there were less distractions than in his room (true).

Now he cautiously shoots a glance in her direction and tries to calculate how much longer until she’s done loading the dishwasher and cleaning the counter. Not long, maybe just a couple of minutes. He needs to do something right now. Soon, she’ll be in the living room with a book and he’ll tell himself he doesn’t want to interrupt when, really, he just doesn’t want to have this conversation. If he doesn’t do it right away, he’s not going to do it at all, not tonight. And then not until next week, until the next time she’s home for dinner and his dad isn’t.

“Today was good, at school,” he says. “I mean, it was okay. It was school, but it was… it was okay.”

She looks surprised when she turns to him. “I’m glad to hear that, honey,” she says. The way she says it makes it clear she is wondering why Alex is suddenly volunteering information about his life when she usually has to resort to CIA interrogation techniques to get anything out of him at all.

“Oh, I have study group tomorrow. Zach will drive me home after,” he tells her, although he didn’t need to.

“I know,” she says. Of course she does. He always has study group on Thursday and Zach always drives him home after.

He tries to think of something else to say instead of the thing he should say. (The thing he’s trying so hard to say. The thing he’s scared to say. The thing that’s been keeping him up at night. The thing that could change everything. The thing he can’t hide from her any longer. The thing he wishes she already knew. The thing he wants so desperately for her to be okay with. The thing he can’t stop thinking about. The thing he seems unable to say.)

“Alex, is everything okay?” she asks. She doesn’t say that he’s acting strange or that she’s getting worried, but she might as well have.

“I’m okay, yeah,” he replies automatically. But then he gathers all his courage and goes on: “More than okay, actually. I’ve been doing really well lately. I’m _happy_ , I think. It’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

He pauses for a moment. He’s got a whole speech planned, he rehearsed it in his head a thousand times, but he can’t remember it now. His mind is blank with fear. It shouldn’t be that hard, he shouldn’t be this worried. It’s 2018, it’s supposed to be easy. _Easier_.

It’s not.

“That’s great, Alex. I see all the work you’ve been doing in the past year,” she says.

 _Oh, right_. It’s been almost a year. The anniversary will be in just over a month. November 9, the day he tried to kill himself. It seems like a lifetime ago. Like it happened to someone else entirely. Maybe, in a way, it did. He's not the same person he was a year ago. Was it Hannah's death? Her tapes? His attempted suicide? All of it?

Maybe it was Zach. Maybe Hannah and the tapes and his father's gun broke him into a million pieces and Zach put them back together in a new, better way. Maybe he wiped the slate clean with a gun and Zach held his hand while he re-wrote himself.

His mom is still talking: “...still think you should keep seeing doctor Ellman.”

She seems to think he's telling her he's happy because he wants to stop seeing his psychiatrist. The conversation is slipping away from him, she's taking it in a different direction. He needs to get it back on track.

“Yeah. Yeah, Mom, me too. I don't want to stop seeing him, don't worry,” he reassures her. He doesn't miss the muscles in her shoulders and jaw relaxing. “I told you I'm happy because I want to tell you why. A lot of things changed, most of them inside my head. Therapy helped, and the meds, and you guys and, I guess, the trial being over and everything being normal again. Or, well, not again. Everything being normal for the first time, I guess. So, that's why I'm feeling better, more like myself.”

He takes a deep breath, as if hoping to take in courage as well as oxygen.

“But the reason I'm happy," he continues, “is because I've been dating someone and he makes me happy and it's Zach and I'm gay.”

He says it all in one breath, almost as if it's one word. _IvebeendatingsomeoneandhemakesmehappyanditsZachandImgay_. Pauses in between words are for people whose hearts remember how to beat normally.

He doesn't look at her, not while he's talking, but he sneaks a glance at her now, trying to gauge her reaction. She doesn't seem surprised. Did she get what he said? Did he say it too fast? He doesn't know if he can bring himself to say it again. Not without throwing up first, anyway. It's just one second but it might as well be an hour. Panic does that, it stretches time with one hand and squeezes everything inside you with the other - your stomach, your heart, your throat, your lungs, your ability to think - until you're one tight ball of anxiety in an infinite blank space, all alone and unable to move.

And then.

And then she drops the sponge she's holding on the counter.

And then she walks around the table and hugs him. Tight.

And then she says, “I love you, Alex. Thank you for telling me. I love you.”

And then he can breathe again, even though she's holding him almost too tight.

* * *

“Please don’t tell Dad,” Alex says. “Not yet.”

Carolyn sets two cups of tea on the table and then takes a seat next to him. “I won’t. If I was going to, I would have already, but I think you should be the one who tells him. I’m not going to take that away from you.”

“It’s not really something I’m looking forward to,” Alex admits. He looks at the steam coming from the cup. He pushes his schoolbook out of the way and draws the cup closer.

“Alex, your dad loves you, that’s not going to change, I promise,” she says. She knows her husband: she knows he won’t like it, but she also knows that his love for his son is stronger than any other feelings or thoughts he might have.

Alex keeps looking down at the cup, not at her. He cannot look at her right now. “He’s probably used to being disappointed in me by now.”

He feels her hand on his arm. He voice is soft but confident. “Never. He just doesn’t know how to talk to you.”

At least they’ve got that in common, he and his dad: they don’t know how to talk to each other.

“I’m going to need some time,” he says. “Before I tell him.”

“Okay, but not too long. I don’t like keeping secrets from him.” Carolyn lets go of his arm. She smiles. “Now, tell me about you and Zach.”

“You know him, he’s… _Zach_ ,” Alex can’t help but smile. “We’ve been dating for about four months now. But you knew already?”

She shakes her head. “I just had a pretty good guess,” she says. “I like him for you. He’s a good guy. I like what he brings out in you.”

His softer side, the one he’s been trying so hard to hide behind a shield of unconventional looks and bad attitude. A more balanced version of him. The Alex who smiles and laughs. The Alex who shares his feelings rather than screaming his anger. The Alex who allows himself to be vulnerable. To be happy.

“I told him you’d be happy it’s him,” he smiles.

His phone starts buzzing as he gets several text messages in a row. He doesn’t need to look at the screen to know who’s blowing up his phone. “This is Zach. I should text him back. He worries when I don’t reply.”

Zach has been texting Alex.  
  
Zach: So?  
Zach: Did you tell her?  
Zach: How did it go?  
Zach: Are you okay?  
Zach: Call me  
Alex: i told her. all good. call you later.  
  


Carolyn quietly sips at her tea and looks at her son while he types. When he puts his phone back in his pocket, she asks, “Does his mother know?”

“No,” Alex simply says.

He doesn’t explain further, but she can tell there’s more. She doesn’t know Karen Dempsey well, but she can guess what Alex isn’t saying. “Well, I am on your side. Will you tell Zach that?”

“I will. Thanks, Mom.” Alex looks at her. “And I will tell Dad, I promise. Just give me some time.”

* * *

Later that night, Zach is playing chess with May when his phone rings. He answers the call as soon as he sees Alex’s picture on the screen. “Hey, hold on just a second,” he says.

He moves his remaining knight, then gets up. He tells May he’ll be right back, then walks out into the garden. “All yours. Tell me everything.”

He can hear music playing in the background. He figures Alex must be in his bedroom.

“She… wasn’t that surprised. She kinda figured it out already somehow,” Alex says. “But, yeah, it was okay. She was actually really cool about it.”

“That’s good,” Zach smiles. “That’s _really_ good.”

“Yeah.” Alex lowers his voice: “I think it helped that it’s you and not a random guy.”

“I second that. I’m very happy it’s me and not a random guy. No random guys for you.” Zach grips his phone tighter. “So I can still come to your house and, like, hang out with you?”

“Of course,” Alex says. “I told you, she likes you. She actually told me that: she likes you for me. And she wants us to know that she’s on our side. That said, I don’t think we will be allowed to close the door of my bedroom, like, ever again.”

Zach chuckles. His relief shows in his laughter. It feels good to have Alex’s mother on their side. It makes him feel less scared of what might happen when he tells his own mother. “Yeah, we should have thought about that.”

“What were you doing before I called?”

“Playing chess with May.”

“Is she kicking your ass?”

Zach laughs again. “Maybe.”

He hears Alex laugh as well. He sounds relaxed. He was wound up to the point of almost being sick this morning: this is a welcome change. “Go back to your game. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Alex.”

“Goodnight, Boyfriend.”

* * *

Alex unlocks the front door of his house and walks in, with Zach following him close behind. “Hey, anybody home?” he calls, not too loudly. No answer. “Just give me a minute, I’ll be right back,” he says, heading towards the staircase.

“I can run upstairs and get it for you.”

“Don’t take it the wrong way, but you have no sense of style,” Alex says as he starts climbing the stairs. “I don’t trust you picking out clothes for me. Last time you managed to find the oldest and most embarrassing t-shirt I’ve got.”

Zach laughs. “Alright, alright. But please don’t change. I’m starving.”

They were on their way to Monet’s to hang out with their friends after the football game when Alex realized he left his jacket at home, so they stopped by his house to get it.

Zach leans against the wall and checks his phone. He texts Justin.

Zach texts Justin.  
  
Zach: Stopped at Alex’s to get his jacket. He’s probably gonna change. We’ll be there… eventually  
  


“Oh, I thought I heard voices,” Alex’s mother says, coming out of the kitchen.

She was at work yesterday and this morning when he picked up Alex for school, so this is the first time he sees her since Alex told her about them.

“Uhm, h-hello, Car—Mrs…”

“It’s still Carolyn. Hello, Zach.” Her voice is warm and kind.

“Alex is… upstairs. He forgot, uh, he forgot his jacket,” Zach mumbles. It was easy, talking to her. _Before_.

“How was the game?” she asks, hoping to put him at ease by talking about football. It usually works with her husband and her older son.

Zach lowers his head to look down at his shoes. “We lost. By thirty points. It was, yeah, kind of embarrassing,” he admits. She can tell that it’s not the game he’s embarrassed about.

“Zach, darling, relax. I didn’t bite your head off when you sneaked chips into Alex’s room, I’m not going to do that now for dating him,” she says.

Her attempts at reassuring him seem to work, because he stops fidgeting with his car keys and actually looks at her. “Thank you. For, you know, being so cool with it.”

She smiles. “Are you hungry?”

Zach shoots a look at the staircase. If Alex had just grabbed a jacket, he would be back by now, which means he’s changing. They’re not getting out of that house any time soon. “I could eat,” he says.

He follows her to the kitchen and tells her more about the game while she heats up some leftovers for him in the microwave.

“How’s your ankle? Alex told me it was bothering you last week after the game,” she asks, as she puts down a plate in front of him.

“Oh, it’s not too bad, just a bit sore.”

He attacks the food in front of him like someone who hasn’t eaten in days. When, a few minutes later, Alex joins them in the kitchen, he’s cleared the plate and is drinking a glass of apple juice.

“Hey, Mom,” he says. He looks at the empty plate in front of Zach. “I thought we were eating at Monet’s.”

Zach shrugs. “I thought you weren’t going to change.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m gonna be hungry again once we get there.”

Zach makes to get up but Carolyn stops him. “Not so fast, boys. I wanted to talk to you. Take a seat, Alex.”

He tone doesn’t leave room for discussion, so Alex reluctantly sits down next to Zach. He has a bad feeling about this.

“First of all, I want to tell you again that I’m on your side. You can come to me any time, both of you. If anything happens at school or anywhere, you can come talk to me. Alright?” She waits for them to nod before going on: “The second thing is, you can’t keep this a secret. Not from your families, at least. We’ve had enough secrets for a lifetime and it never seems to end well, does it? Your dad, Alex, and your mother, Zach, may surprise you. Give them a chance. Even if they don’t react the way you’d want them to, I can guarantee they won’t stop loving you.”

They both nod again and she decides not to push further, although she does think that a verbal response would have been _nice_.

“Alright,” she says. “Now…”

She reaches inside her bag and places a box of condoms on the table in front of them.

“Oh my God, _Mom_!” Alex exclaims as soon as he sees it.

“I don’t necessarily like it or encourage it, but I know it’s going to happen so I want you to be safe,” she says.

Alex sighs. “Mom, I already got the talk from Dad a couple of years ago. I’m still trying to get over that. Can we please not go through it again?”

She heard the talk her husband gave to their sons. _Be ready to use a condom if you are not ready to wake up at 3am to change a diaper._ A moment of awkward silence, a pat on the shoulder and that was it. She didn’t think it was good enough then, and she knows for sure it’s not good enough now. She doesn’t know how far beyond kissing they’ve gone and she can only guess how much they know about safe sex, but she does know from her job that teenagers are often much more misinformed than you’d think they would be.

“Safe sex is not just about preventing pregnancy. In your case, it’s very important to use condoms to protect you against STDs,” she explains.

Zach looks like he’d give his left lung to avoid this conversation, and Alex keeps rolling his eyes at her.

“Mom, we _know_. We’re not clueless.”

She ignores him and goes on. It’s uncomfortable for everyone, herself included, but she’d rather have this talk here at the kitchen table than a different (harder) one in a doctor’s office a few months or years from now, one filled with should-haves. “Do you know how to use them?” she asks, pointing at the box.

“We do,” Alex answers for both of them. “And just so you know, my next therapy session is going to be all about this conversation.”

“Zach?”

“Yeah, we… we do. I do,” Zach replies, without looking at her.

“Very well. So, rules,” Carolyn says, moving on to the next point in her mental list. “Zach, you can still sleep over – in Peter’s room – but not when Alex is home alone. You can hang out in Alex’s bedroom, but the door stays open. And, Alex?, open means open. Most importantly, I expect you to be honest with me. No more sneaking around. I trust you: don’t give me a reason not to.”

She looks at them: her son first, then Zach. They both nod.

“Can we go now?” Alex pleads.

“Yes, you can go.”

Zach gets up so fast he almost topples over the chair and Alex puts on his jacket in record time.

“That was…” Zach says as soon as they’re outside.

“Painful? Mortifying? Traumatizing?”

“Yeah. All three.”

They both know, too, that this is what it looks like when you come out to your parents and it goes well. They would never admit it, but they’re thankful for it.

“She’s going to join PFLAG, isn’t she?” Alex wonders with a sigh.

 

 

### XVII.

Jess holds up a blue dress. “You have to try this on. The color would look stunning on you,” she tells May.

“You think so?” May smiles shily.

“Absolutely.”

May takes the dress into the fitting room. Jess waits outside, looking at a row of pastel-colored shirts.

“What do we think about this one?” Chloe asks, showing her a strapless, white lace dress.

“ _We_ think it’s a bit revealing. You know, for a 13-year-old,” Jess says.

“Oh, no, not for her. For me.” Chloe looks at the dress for a few seconds longer, then puts it back on the rack without trying it on. She gets closer to Jess and runs her hand over the silky fabric of a flowery shirt. “So, you and Zach…”

Jess gives her a look. “Zach and I are very good friends.”

“Because you’re into Justin.”

“Yeah, and also because we’re not into each other that way.”

She wonders if Chloe asked because of the rumors going around school. She should know better than to listen to gossip, but Jess knows it’s hard to ignore it completely sometimes. She must admit, she doesn’t mind this particular rumor. It’s not scandalous enough that people bother her with it, but it does keep them from asking her who she’s interested in – which is good since she doesn’t have a good answer to that question yet.

Chloe goes through the rack. None of the shirts catches her eye, but she pretends to check out a few of them anyway. Then, casually, she says, “Zach’s cute. And hot. And _tall_. And he seems sweet.”

Oh, that’s why she was asking, then.

“He is,” Jess agrees.

“I thought so. He was really sweet to me last year, when everything was going down with Bryce. He checked in on me, you know? Back then, I thought Bryce put him up to it, that he was testing me, but now I know that he was just being nice.” Chloe looks at Jess. “It feels good to know that there are still nice guys out there, you know?”

Jess nods. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Luckily for Jess, before Chloe can ask her any more questions about Zach, May opens the door of the fitting room and tentatively takes a step out.

“Oh, you look _so_ pretty,” Chloe says. She gets closer and smooths down the folds of her skirt.

“You _have_ to get this one, it’s perfect for you.”

May looks at herself in the full-length mirror and smiles. “I like it.”

Jess snaps a picture of her. “I’ll send it to Alex so he can match Zach’s tie to your dress.”

* * *

It was a bit uncomfortable at first. He felt out of place among all the 13-year-old girls and their fathers. But then he saw a couple of mothers there. He didn’t talk to them, but they exchanged a knowing look and suddenly he felt part of something: a small resistance group against a tradition that didn’t take into account that some fathers leave, some fathers die, some fathers were never in the picture, and some girls have two moms instead of a mom and a dad.

“All my friends are jealous,” May announces when he comes back to her with two glasses of fruit punch. “They all want to dance with you.”

Zach laughs. “They can’t. I’m only dancing with you tonight.”

“You know, Jess’s friend, Chloe, was asking about you,” she says.

 _Fuck_.

Alex is going to _love_ that. Study group is going to be _so much_ _fun_ when he starts throwing passive-aggressive comments at Chloe and she doesn’t have a clue why.

As Alex and Jess would say, _F.M.L_.

“Oh, yeah?” he says. “Well, I’m not really interested in dating any girls at the moment. I’ve got enough on my plate.”

He’s gotten good at hiding the truth without lying. He hates it. Maybe Alex does have a point about coming out. He drinks his fruit punch. “How about we go back to the dance floor?”

“One more dance, then we leave and go get ice cream?”

Zach smiles. “You are the best sister in the world.”

 

 

### XVIII.

When the phone rings, Clay and Alex barely even notice it. They’re playing videogames in the living room and cannot afford any distractions right now: they’re about to level up and it’s crucial that they don’t mess up. It’s taken them most of Sunday afternoon and all evening to get to this point.

It’s something in Clay’s mother’s tone that catches their attention. A strain. An artificial calmness that betrays apprehension.

They pause the game when she hangs up the phone.

“Is everything okay?” Clay asks her.

“I don’t know,” she admits. “It was the hospital. Justin was just taken to the ER.”

She looks lost, but it’s only for a second. She recovers quickly and starts gathering all the adoption paperwork as well as any other documents she thinks she may need.

Clay jumps up. “Is he okay? What did they say? What happened?”

“I don’t know, Clay. They wouldn’t tell me over the phone. We’ll find out once we get there. They told me he’s being treated, that’s all.” Laine looks over the stack of paper once more. Nothing seems to be missing. Her husband is at a conference out of town and she decides to wait till she has more information before she calls him. It’s late and he can’t do anything anyway, so there is no point in making him worry.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe he dropped a glass, cut himself, and needs a couple of stitches. It’s probably something like that. It’s not an overdose. It’s not a serious accident. It can’t be.

It has to be something stupid that they can joke about tomorrow.

“We leave in five minutes,” she says. She heads to the bedroom to get dressed.

Alex is trying to call Zach since he and Justin are hanging out together tonight, but he’s not picking up. He tries calling a second time, with no success.

“Zach’s not answering his phone,” he says.

He tries not to panic.

He fails.

“I’m coming with you,” he decides. He gets up and looks at Clay. “I’m sure they’re okay. It’s probably nothing, right?”

“Right.”

Neither of them sounds confident.

* * *

Alex texts Zach.  
  
**Sept. 30 th**  
Alex: are you okay?  
(10:43 PM)  
Alex: what happened? is Justin okay?  
(10:43 PM)  
Alex: please call me  
(10:43 PM)  
Alex: call me  
(10:45 PM)  
Alex: call me  
(10:56 PM)  
  


Alex texts Zach.  
  
Alex: i’m at the hospital  
(11:17 PM)  
Alex: where the fuck are you?  
(11:18 PM)  
Alex: i’m freaking out. call me  
(11:39 PM)  
**Oct. 1 st**  
Alex: CALL ME  
(11:02AM)  
Alex: ZACH FUCKING CALL ME  
(12:03 AM)  
  



	5. October (Part 1)

### XVIII.  
(reprise)

Alex texts Zach.  
  
Alex: CALL ME  
(11:02AM)  
Alex: ZACH FUCKING CALL ME  
(12:03 AM)  
  


* * *

Alex is crying.

Sobbing, in fact.

That’s the first thing Carolyn sees when she comes into the room: that her son is crying. It takes her a second longer to see the other two boys, despite the fact that they’re right next to Alex, and to register what Alex is saying. Screaming, actually.

Clay is sitting on the floor of the hospital room with his back against the wall, hugging his knees to his chest.

The other boy has his back to her, but she recognizes him anyway: Zach. He is holding Alex, refusing to let go even as Alex keeps furiously hitting at his arms and chest.

“Do you have any fucking idea how worried I was?! You fucking answer you phone, Zach! You fucking answer your phone when I call you!! Fuck! If something happens, you fucking call me!” Alex is screaming at him.

“Stop, I’m okay. I’m okay, Alex, just stop,” Zach repeats, until Alex stops hitting him and falls into his arms. Alex’s face is buried into his shoulder and his t-shirt is getting wet. He doesn’t care. He hugs Alex tighter until he feels him calm down.

Carolyn steps into the room. “What’s going on?”

She was already busy with another patient when Justin walked into the E.R., so she didn’t find out that her son’s friend had been admitted until a co-worker told her that Alex was there.

It takes her a while to put together what happened because the three boys are all talking at the same time. And, quite frankly, it’s almost exclusively Clay that gives her information; Alex and Zach are still mostly arguing amongst themselves.

“The hospital called because Justin was brought in, so we came here.”

“And I came along because we didn’t know how Justin was, and I knew that Zach was with him but he wasn’t answering his phone.”

“I was…”

“Shut up! You should have fucking called me!”

“When we got here, a nurse told us Justin had been taken upstairs for X-rays. Zach wasn’t here.”

“And the nurse didn’t know if anyone else was with Justin when he arrived.”

“I said I’m sorry. It’s not…”

“What?! It’s not like I spent a fucking hour thinking you might be dead?”

“My mom talked to the doctor.”

Carolyn already knows about Justin: her co-worker told her it’s nothing serious, just a broken wrist, but the circumstances of the injury are bad and the police got involved.

“Zach, what happened?” she asks. It’s only now that she notices he’s got a few bruises himself.

“We were out, Justin and I. We stopped for gas. I went inside to buy a couple of Cokes and some snacks and when I came back out this psycho was hitting Justin. It was his mother’s boyfriend. Or ex-boyfriend, or whatever,” Zach says. Carolyn sees both Alex and Clay flinch at that. Alex’s left hand finds Zach’s, his right one rests awkwardly on Clay’s shoulder in an attempt to comfort him. Zach goes on: “Between the two of us, we made him run away. Or maybe he got scared when another car came into the gas station. I don’t know. And then we came here. When they took Justin upstairs for X-rays, the police arrived and I talked to them. It was chaos, Alex. I didn’t even think about checking my phone. I think I left it in the car. I’m sorry, okay?”

They share a look, and then Alex hugs him. “No, _I_ ’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. I was scared. We were waiting, and nobody knew where you were.”

“I’m okay and Justin will be okay.” Zach hugs him back.

“Yeah, except for the fact that fucking Seth just beat the shit out of him and that he’s got a broken wrist and can’t take any painkillers stronger than Advil!” Clay is the one getting upset now. “Wait, did he tell the doctor about his drug problem?”

“It’s the first thing he told them, Clay,” Zach reassures him. “And they’ll get Seth. I’m sure they will arrest him tonight.”

Carolyn takes charge before they get out of control once again. “Justin will be fine. Clay, where’s your mother?”

“She talked to the doctor and then she said she was going to ask to sit with Justin while he waits for the X-rays,” Clay says. “She usually gets what she wants.”

“Radiology shouldn’t be too busy right now, they’ll probably be back any minute. Zach, does your mother know what happened?”

Zach shakes his head no. “I’m 18 so they didn’t call her. I’ll tell her tomorrow when I get home.”

It’s not going to be an easy conversation. He can almost hear her already, saying he shouldn’t hang out with Justin and that he’s dangerous. He’d rather have that discussion in private in the morning rather than in the waiting room of the ER at night.

It’s a good thing that he was supposed to sleep over at Clay and Justin’s, otherwise by now she would have mobilized the military to look for him.

“Alright, there’s no reason why you should all wait here. Clay, of course you can stay. I’ll wait with you until your mother comes back.” Carolyn’s voice doesn’t leave room for discussion. “Zach, it’s probably best that you don’t show up at your house in the middle of the night covered in bruises if your mother thinks you’re safely asleep at a friend’s. Why don’t you take Alex home and sleep over at our house?”

“Can’t we just wait for Justin?” Alex asks.

“You’ll see Justin tomorrow. He doesn’t need a crowd right now.”

Alex gives up without a fight.

“Peter’s room,” she reminds them. “I’ll be home early tomorrow morning.”

* * *

While Zach takes a shower, Alex sits at the kitchen table and texts Jess to let her know what happened. She’s probably already asleep, but she’ll get his texts in the morning when she wakes up. He doesn’t want her to hear it from someone else. Who knows that the rumors are going to say. He doesn’t want her to worry when none of them show up for school. He’s sure neither Clay nor Justin will be there tomorrow. Zach plans on going home and talking to his mom before she leaves for work, so he’s probably skipping first period, and Alex already decided that he’s going to sleep until at least 10am tomorrow morning.

When Zach comes back downstairs, Alex is making hot chocolate. They drink it on the couch. They already talked in the car and now they don’t feel like talking anymore, so they sit in comfortable silence. They share small soothing touches – Alex’s hand resting on Zach’s leg, Zach’s fingers trailing through Alex’s hair, slowly – and that’s enough.

“Are you tired?” Alex asks after a while.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah, me too.” Alex snuggles closer. His anxiety levels are sky high tonight and he’s quite sure that any sleep he’s able to get will be filled with nightmares.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really.”

Zach wraps his arm around Alex’s shoulders. “Let’s just sit here for a while.”

* * *

Carolyn finds them asleep on the couch when she comes home early in the morning. Alex still has his shoes on and is curled up against Zach. Neither of them looks comfortable but they are sleeping peacefully.

She wakes them up with coffee and news about Justin: he’s got a broken wrist; they reset it and splinted it, and he will need a cast once the swelling goes down. She answers their questions, the ones she knows the answer to, while they have breakfast: yes, he’s home; no, he hasn’t taken any strong (any _addictive_ ) painkillers; no, they can’t go see him right now because he’s probably, hopefully resting, but they can visit him after school.

When Zach leaves to go home and talk to his mother, Carolyn turns a blind eye to Alex’s theatrical yawns and not-so-subtle requests to be allowed to get back to sleep, and drives him to school.

* * *

“It wasn’t Justin’s fault!” Zach repeats for what feels like the hundredth time.

His mother is upset. Very much so. If she were upset about the fact that her son was in a fight last night and the police got involved, he’d get it. And she _is_ upset about that. Of course, she is. But, mostly, she’s upset at Zach’s friends. More specifically, she’s upset at Justin.

Nothing like that ever happened when he hung out with Bryce. (Never mind that Justin used to be there, too, and she thought it was okay back then. Never mind that they used to do all sorts of stupid and dangerous things at Bryce’s, and that all Zach and Justin were doing last night was buying chocolate and sodas. Never mind that Justin did some stupid things to get out of a bad situation when he had no one to turn to, while Bryce raped girls for fun.)

Because Justin comes from a bad family situation. (Never mind that it’s not Justin’s fault that his father left before he was even born and his mother has issues. Never mind that no kid should have to deal with his mother’s addiction and her boyfriend’s violent outbursts. Never mind that he’s the _victim_.)

And Justin makes bad choices and he’s a bad influence. (Never mind that he’s been working so hard to make up for all those bad choices. Never mind that most of them weren’t even really _choices_ in the first place, that he got dealt a bad hand and was simply trying to survive. Never mind that, if Zach had been there for him sooner, all this mess could have been avoided.)

And Zach could have gotten hurt. (Never mind that Seth wasn’t trying to hurt Zach. Never mind that it was Justin who got hurt. Never mind that, had Zach not been there, Justin could have been killed.)

He tries to explain. She doesn’t get it.

He goes to school. She goes to work.

Yet another conversation left open. Incomplete. Unspoken words piling up high in the silence.

* * *

Jess leaves school after lunch because she just cannot wait any longer. She has to see Justin.

He’s on the couch with his left arm resting on a pillow. There’s an ice-pack melting on the floor and a bottle of Advil sitting on the coffee table. He looks worn out, miserable and uncomfortable. He looks scared and broken. He looks like he’s in pain. Her heart breaks for him.

She can see a few bruises on his arms. He’s probably got more under his clothes. He’s probably got even more on the inside.

“I’ll… go to my room for no reason at all,” Clay says as Jess stands there looking at Justin.

“I’m okay,” Justin tells her. His voice is strained.

There are a million things she wants to tell him but they are all so heavy, they struggle to find their way into words. “I thought he was in prison,” she says, because that’s the easiest thing: facts. Seth was arrested for possession of drugs and intent to distribute not long after Justin was released from juvie. They all breathed a bit easier when Alex’s father told them.

“He got out early. I don’t know how.”

“What did he want? Why did he come after you?”

He looks away. At the carpet, at her shoes, at the books lined up on the shelves. He tells her about last year, about stealing from him, about not having a choice. He looks at the geometric shapes the sunlight coming in from the open windows creates on the floor. He tells her the police are looking for Seth but haven’t found him yet. He looks at the pictures on the walls. He tells her the Jensens don’t deserve this.

“Neither do you!” Jess comes closer. He’s lying down, taking up most of the space, so she sits on the edge of the couch, her hip touching his side. She takes his hand, the good one. “Justin, _he_ ’s the bad guy. Everybody knows it, including the Jensens.”

She knows what it’s like to feel like it’s your fault even when you’re the victim. All the could-haves, all the should-haves, all the ways in which you manage to blame yourself and hate yourself.

She knows words don’t really make a difference, no matter how well-chosen, no matter who they come from. Maybe that’s why she does it. Why she kisses him. Because showing him he’s loved is more effective than telling him.

Or maybe it’s simpler than that: maybe it’s because she loves him.

* * *

His arm hurts.

A piercing pain whenever he moves, the kind that almost takes his breath away. A constant, throbbing, deep ache when he sits still, the kind that makes him want to curl up in a ball and cry.

He wants – _needs_ – it to stop. Just for a minute. One minute. Sixty pain-free seconds of relief. It doesn’t seem too much to ask, does it?

It’s not so much the intensity of the pain as its persistence. It feels endless.

His fingers tingle, his arm aches, even his shoulder feels tender, and his wrist fucking _hurts_. It’s too much.

He feels weak.

He can’t handle it.

And yet he does. Somehow.

He’s lying on the couch with his head resting on Jess’s lap. Eyes closed, he focuses on the comforting feeling of her fingers stroking his hair, on her fruity perfume, on Clay’s voice. Clay is sitting on the other couch and is reading out loud from who knows what book. Justin is too tired to focus on the words, to keep track of sentences and characters, but they provide a welcome distraction from the confusion inside his head. Clay may be reading old shopping lists for all he knows, but he doesn’t want him to stop.

He drifts off to sleep.

Later, when he wakes up, Clay and Jess are having a whispered conversation about colleges. Jess hasn’t moved and her right hand is a warm weight on Justin’s chest. Clay is now sitting on the other side of the couch, with Justin’s legs in his lap.

“Please stop talking about school,” he mumbles and they laugh.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better, I think.”

His arm still hurts, but he feels stronger.

He hears some noise coming from the kitchen and turns his head to the door.

“Zach and Alex,” Jess tells him. “They’re looking for something to eat.”

“You should eat something, too, by the way, so you can take some Advil,” Clay adds.

“I don’t feel like eating and Advil doesn’t do shit anyway,” Justin says. Then he realizes that it came out harsher than it should have. It’s not Clay’s fault, after all. He’s only trying to help. “I’m sorry.”

Alex comes into the living room with a box of Cheerios under his left arm. Zach is right behind him with a stack of glasses in one hand and two bottles in the other.

“Oh, you’re awake. How are you?” Zach asks.

“I’m okay,” Justin says, even though he doesn’t really feel _okay_. He’s a long way from okay.

Alex gets comfortable on the other couch, while Zach sets the glasses and bottles down on the coffee table.

“You don’t sound okay,” Alex says, looking at Justin.

“I’ve been better. My arm hurts,” Justin admits. “Zach, listen, I’m sorry about last night. I should…”

Zach doesn’t let him finish. “You don’t have to apologize. I’m glad I was there.”

“I’m getting you some ice for your arm,” Clay decides. “Move your legs.”

“I’ll get it,” Zach says.

He grabs a handful of Cheerios and shoves them in his mouth on his way to the kitchen. When he comes back, he throws the ice pack at Clay. It’s a good pass: it should land almost perfectly in Clay’s hands, but Clay misses it completely anyway, so it lands on the floor instead.

“Dude, you’re hopeless.”

“It’s… slippery.”

Zach laughs, then walks around the room to retrieve the ice pack. This time, he hands it to Justin directly before taking a seat next to Alex.

“Thank you.”

Justin places the ice pack on his splinted wrist. Clay sets a timer so he doesn’t leave it on too long. It makes him feel useful, at least a little bit. He can’t do much to help Justin, but he can at least do this: make sure he doesn’t get frostbite. It’s not enough, but it’s _something_.

“Mom called earlier to check in on you,” he tells Justin. “She said she’s going to be late tonight, but she’s working from home tomorrow.”

“Did she say anything about Seth?” Justin asks.

Clay shakes his head. “They’re still looking for him, I guess.”

Jess doesn’t miss Justin’s body tensing up and the way his eyes flicker with fear. She takes his uninjured hand into hers. “They’ll find him.”

“My dad is not very forthcoming with information about the cases they’re working on, but I’ll ask him tonight and maybe he’ll let something slip,” Alex promises, although he knows the chances of getting anything useful out of his father are slim.

He eats some Cheerios. He looks at Justin and Jess: they’re holding hands. He doesn’t know what it means and he’s quite sure they don’t either, but he’s happy for them. Whatever it is, it seems like a good thing for both of them.

“You’re gonna miss the Homecoming game this week,” Zach realizes.

“I’m gonna miss the rest of the football season and the first few basketball games, too.” Justin looks at his injured wrist. “They told me I’ll probably be in a cast for a month and then I won’t be able to play right away. I probably won’t play till the end of next month.”

Zach looks at him sympathetically. “Sucks.”

“Yeah.” Justin shrugs, trying to dismiss it, then winces when the movement sends a jolt of pain down his arm. He keeps talking to distract himself. “At least I’ll have plenty of time to study for the SATs. It might actually be a good thing.”

Zach, Alex and Jess are taking the test this Saturday. Justin already knew he wouldn’t feel ready enough and so he signed up for the November session instead. He’s got a whole month of sports-free afternoons ahead of him. If he spends as much time studying as he would have playing football and basketball, he’s going to become a model student.

Glass half full. Or something.

 

 

### XIX.

The decision is unanimous: they’re not going to the Homecoming dance.

There’s not even a discussion about it, really.

“We’re not going, right?” Zach asked Alex last week, after the Homecoming committee tried, once more, to sell him tickets.

“Hell no,” Alex replied without even thinking about it.

What would be the point of going, if they can’t go together? And after the last one they went to, they’re not big fans of dances anyway.

Jess brings it up on Thursday at lunch. “Any of you guys going to the dance tomorrow night?”

Like that. Casually. The way she would ask if any of them want to hang out after school or if they’re eating the last slice of pizza.

“We’re not,” Alex says, answering for both himself and Zach.

“Me neither,” Clay adds quickly.

Justin hesitates, as if hoping that the reason she asked was because she wanted to go with him. It’s only for a second, though, then he shakes his head. “Nah. Are you going?”

“Chloe asked me to go with her and a couple of her girlfriends, but I already told her I’ll spend the night studying for the SATs,” Jess says. “By the way, Zach, Chloe wanted me to tell you that she doesn’t have a date so you’re still in time to ask her. And yes, I _know_ , but I promised her I’d mention it, so that’s what I’m doing.”

It’s the first time she brings up Chloe’s crush on Zach, but she knows it doesn’t come as news to him. Or Alex. Chloe’s been flirting with Zach during study group. Lightly, showing interest more than anything else, but quite noticeably.

“Well, you mentioned it,” says Zach, a bit awkwardly.

The aggression Alex puts in stabbing his salad with the fork betrays his real feelings, but he keeps it to himself. Instead, he asks Zach and Jess, “Since we’re not going to the dance, do you want to come over to my house tomorrow night with the pretense to study for the SATs, but really just to panic together?”

“Panicking together always helps. I’m in,” Jess says.

“Yeah, me too.”

“You’re ready. You’ll do great,” Clay says encouragingly.

“Maybe,” Alex concedes. “But, first, we’ll freak out. It’s our process.”

* * *

There’s a two-hour gap between when they finish school and when they meet for study group to accommodate for sports and various after-school activities. It used to work perfectly for Justin. Except now he can’t play football, so he’s got nothing to do and no-one to do it with.

Clay and Sheri have a meeting with the other Honor Board members, Zach has football, Chloe cheerleading. Alex and Jess joined the Foreign Films club earlier in the year just so they would have something to do. They offer to skip it, but he tells them they don’t need to. He regrets it almost instantly.

As for the final two members of their study group, Cyrus and Mackenzie, Justin doesn’t know what they’re doing right now but he knows that he doesn’t want to be a part of it.

So, when the bell rings after sixth period, Justin finds himself alone.

He told his friends he would go to Monet’s and get a head-start on his homework while he waits for them. It’s a good plan. Such a good plan. That is, if it weren’t for the fact that going to Monet’s means walking there by himself, which shouldn’t be a big deal but it is.

It’s a big deal because Seth could be there. He could have been following him, he could know about study group, he could be waiting for him outside the school, or at Monet’s, or on the way there. He could have a gun. He could kill him.

So Justin doesn’t go to Monet’s. He camps out in the hallway by the classroom where the Honor Board is holding their meeting.

He feels like a coward. Really, what’s his plan? Waiting for his friends so, if Seth does show up, he can hurt them, too? It’s the last thing he wants.

But, he tells himself, if he waits for Clay, they’ll _drive_ there, which is far safer then walking. They’ll probably wait for Jess and Alex to give them a ride, too. They’ll be a group of five people. Seth wouldn’t attack five people in broad daylight. He’s not _that_ stupid.

Is he?

He looks up from his schoolbook when he hears voices. It’s Monty, Willem and a few other guys on the football team. The football team he’s no longer part of. Monty looks at his arm with a strange expression on his face. It’s not quite empathy, but it comes close to understanding.

Willem opens his mouth to talk and Justin prepares for his daily dose of hate.

But it never comes: Monty punches Willem in the shoulder and says, “Leave him alone. We’re late for practice anyway.”

Justin knows it’s not going to last. But even if it’s just for today, he’ll take it.

* * *

Clay is sitting on the front steps of his house. Everyone’s home tonight and this is the only place where he can make this phone call without the risk of being overheard.

“Did he mention anything to you?” he asks Zach.

“No, but it would make sense that he’s scared of Seth. That guy is a fucking psycho.”

Zach kept most of what happened at the gas station to himself. He told the police, sure, but he didn’t share every detail with his friends. They don’t need to know that Seth had a gun. They don’t need to hear the threats he made to Justin even as he was leaving. They don’t need to know how scared he and Justin were, how it took him five minutes to start the car because his hands were shaking too hard, how Justin cried all the way to the hospital and it wasn’t from the pain.

They’re already worried enough as it is.

“Yeah, well, what do we do until the police find that fucking psycho?”

Clay hates seeing Justin like this: he’s been through more than enough.

He knows Justin is not sleeping well at night. He can tell because Justin keeps falling asleep on their way to school, during lunch, as soon as they get home in the afternoon. Last time he was this tired was when he got out of juvie and nightmares were keeping him up at night. He also knows that Justin is scared of being alone right now and that this won’t change until the police find and arrest Seth.

“Have you tried talking to him?” Zach asks.

“Have you met Justin?”

Zach sighs. _Fair point_. “I guess we don’t leave him alone. We make it look casual. We just… show up.”

* * *

“Motion to add another study group session on Tuesdays,” Alex says the next morning in the cafeteria. “I could really use it.”

Both Zach and Jess agree, Justin mentions he’s got nothing better to do anyway, and Clay says he’ll be happy to help.

“I’ll ask Chloe later since it’s her study group, but I think she’ll be on board,” Jess adds.

“Oh, I’m sure she’s gonna love the opportunity to flirt with my boyfriend twice as much.”

Alex knows it’s not Chloe’s fault: she thinks Zach is single, she’s not doing anything wrong. He _knows_ that. It doesn’t make it easier to watch. He can’t help but hate it. She doesn’t mean to, but she still makes him feel insecure: she’s beautiful and popular, she’s a cheerleader, she’s a _girl_. She’s the perfect match for Zach, with her petite frame and striking blond hair. The jock and the cheerleader. It’s a cliché for a reason. Alex is sure Zach’s mother would love her. And who could blame Mrs. Dempsey? Chloe is _so_ nice. Everyone likes her, including Alex himself. (And not just because she is basically the only reason why he’s not failing French.) Just because he likes her, it doesn’t mean he doesn’t hate how hopelessly _wrong_ she makes him feel.

When Chloe started flirting with Zach, Alex acted like it didn’t matter. Zach reassured him all the same that he had no interest in anyone but him. It should help, but it doesn’t. He doesn’t believe that Zach would break up with him to date Chloe. It’s not that. That would be easier to explain. What bothers him is how invisible it makes him feel. He’s one of the most important people in Zach’s life, but the world doesn’t see it.

They see Zach talking to him and assume Alex is his pity project. But if Zach so much as says hello to Chloe, everyone starts wondering if they’re dating.

It’s just so unfair.

It’s also – and he knows that – not Chloe’s fault.

“Sorry,” he says when he sees the look on Jess’s face. “It was a joke.”

She pretends to believe him.

* * *

“I get it.”

Alex stops shoving books into his locker and turns around. Justin is standing there, leaning against the wall, backpack slung over one shoulder. His injured arm is in a sling and he’s wearing a light grey hoodie instead of his varsity jacket, with the cuff cut-off so it fits over the cast.

“I get how you feel about Chloe,” Justin says.

“I’m not jealous.” Alex’s tone is defensive.

“Yeah, you are.”

They both have gym third period, which means they’re both free. Their teacher is supposed to find alternative activities for them to do, but he made it clear that if they don’t show up at all, it’s perfectly fine by him.

They walk together down the hallway towards the football field. The bleachers should be empty right now.

“Let’s say I _am_ jealous,” Alex allows. “So what?”

“Nothing. I’m just saying I get it. I was jealous of you.”

Alex gives a half-hearted laugh. “You had no reason to be. Jess chose you. Jess always chose you.”

“Zach chose you and keeps choosing you,” Justin reminds him.

They take a seat on the bleachers and look out at the football field. There are people coming and going with decorations for tonight’s Homecoming game but they all ignore them.

“That’s not it. It’s not jealousy, it’s envy,” Alex admits after a few moments of silence. “I don’t think Zach is interested in her or that she will take him away from me. I’m not insecure about his feelings for me. I’m insecure about… myself, I guess. I wish I was more like her.”

“You did look good as a blond, but I’m not sure about the long hair and the lip gloss,” Justin jokes.

Alex laughs.

“Seriously, though, I get it.” Justin looks at him. “You wish you were the type of person who could go to the dance with Zach without causing a gossip-tsunami. You wish you were the athletic type, so you’d have that in common with Zach. You wish you were exactly who people expect Zach to date because then it would be easier. Right? I _get_ that. It’s why I was jealous of you. Because her father liked you. Because she never had to justify to anyone the fact that she was dating you. Because everybody, Jess included, knew you were the right choice.”

“But I wasn’t.”

“On paper you were. And so is Chloe. But in real life, things are different. Zach doesn’t want Chloe. He dated girls like Chloe and none of them lasted more than a week.” Justin looks at him. “But you know that and you still feel like breaking something every time she gets within thirty feet of Zach.”

“Yeah,” Alex admits.

“Yeah, I get that, too.”

“How did you get over it?” asks Alex.

Justin smiles. “You told me you were gay.”

“Great, so I’ll just hope Chloe has a sexuality crisis. Sounds like a great plan.”

“I never said I had a solution.”

Alex opens his backpack and looks for a black Sharpie. “C’mon, give me your arm,” he says.

Justin gets his arm out of the sling and rolls up the sleeve of his hoodie. Clay was the first to sign his cast: last night, while they watched TV with their parents, he carefully drew a kitten with a speech bubble that says _Hi, JJ_. Apparently, he has a thing for drawing cute talking animals. This morning, in the cafeteria, Jess wrote _You’ll always be the Sid to my Nancy (But let’s rewrite the ending!)_ in red ink.

Alex thinks about it for a moment, then he writes _Blondes have more fun, but brunettes get their Happily Ever After_.

Justin chuckles when he reads it. “You’re not even really a brunette right now. Your hair is like, three different colors.”

“And I might dye it blue for Halloween. But that’s not the point. You get what I mean.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Justin smiles. “ _Blue_ , really?”

“It’s an idea. Don’t tell Zach.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Alex runs his fingers over the stickers that decorate his cane. “Thank you. You know, for telling me you get it.”

Justin nods.

A couple of cheerleaders walk by with a banner and look up at the two of them.

“Sad and broken is the new sexy,” Alex jokes.

“We’re not _sad_.”

Alex shrugs. “We’re _troubled_. And we’ve got three good legs and two working arms between the two of us, so we are definitely broken.”

“Mostly on the inside.”

 

 

### XX.

Clay and Justin are right outside waiting for their friends to finish their SAT test. It’s Saturday, a little before lunch time, and if they only stop once on the way there they can be at the beach by mid-afternoon. Clay and Zach decided that the best thing they could do for Justin right now was get him away from Crestmont – from Seth. At least for twenty-four hours. It wasn’t even that hard: Zach asked his uncle if he could use his cabin, they got all of their parents to agree to let them go, and then all there was left to do was pack their swimsuits and toothbrushes.

They all pile up into Zach’s car. On the way to the cabin, they talk about anything but Seth. They sing loudly. Clay argues with the GPS over the best route to take. They fight about the music and laugh about the stories Jess and Alex make up about the people in other cars ( _Those three are clearly on their way to rob a bank; That lady is a spy and she’s thinking about betraying her country; That dog is really a cat trying out its Halloween costume_ ).

Once they get there, Justin takes his backpack inside, takes off his shoes, lies down on the beach and falls asleep almost right away. Clay settles down with a book a few feet away from him and Jess takes over the kitchen to make muffins.

Alex and Zach take a short walk on the beach. It was supposed to be a longer one, but then Alex pretends to fall and Zach lets Alex drag him down with him, and once they’re lying on the sand there is no getting back up. There’re only eager kisses, and hands sneaking under t-shirts, and the freedom that comes from being away from home.

* * *

None of them has ever built a bonfire, but all five of them know how to Google. So, while Zach and Jess dig the fire pit, Clay gathers any large rocks he can find on the beach to build a ring around the pit to further protect the fire from the wind, Justin collects twigs and driftwood, small pieces as well as larger ones, and Alex takes care of the actual fire part. He balls up the pages of an old newspaper to use as a starter and then looks for a lighter. He doesn’t find one, but he does find a box of matches inside a drawer. (As well as the top part of a red bikini, a condom that looks like it’s been there for decades, an assortment of odd buttons, three Scrabble pieces and an empty pack of cigarettes.)

It takes them three tries before they successfully light the fire, but once they do, it was worth it. They roast their hot dogs over the fire and regret not having any marshmallows. They eat caramelized pieces of apple and Jess’s chocolate muffins for dessert.

They feel like they can finally breathe after a week that took a lot out of all of them.

Justin’s shoulders finally relax and he smiles more easily. He makes jokes and, for the first time since Seth came back, feels like maybe things can be okay again.

Clay no longer watches over Justin with the anxious demeanor of a watchdog on high alert. He reads them the essay he wrote for his application to Berkeley: it’s about Hannah and all of them, and how he wants to make an impact in the world.

Jess confesses she has no idea what she wants to do next year. Maybe she’ll take a gap year, maybe she’ll pick a college and a major at random and see where it goes from there. She wraps herself and Justin in one blanket and rests her head on his shoulder.

Alex tells them he’s going to miss them next year and makes them promise to keep in touch, no matter where they all end up. He also draws a campfire on Justin’s cast, but it ends up looking more like flower. He writes _Bonfire_ under it, and Jess starts singing _Bonfire Heart_ by James Blunt, making up at least half the words.

Zach is quiet and throws small rocks into the fire until Alex takes his hand. He admits that telling his mother about Alex worries him because she will probably act like she didn’t hear him, and that he really wishes his dad was still alive because he wouldn’t be happy about it but at least he would be willing to talk about it. And then he moves behind Alex so that Alex is in between his legs and can rest his back against his chest, and holds him close.

When Clay complains that he feels left out, Justin pulls him closer and says he can cuddle with him and Jess. When Alex mentions the anniversary of Hannah’s death is in three days, they all share their favorite memories of her. And they smile, because they can do that now: talk about her and smile, remember her without drowning in an ocean of guilt and pain. When Zach and Alex tell the story of the box of condoms Alex’s mother got for them, they all laugh so hard their stomachs hurt. And when Clay says he saw a shooting star, they all make a wish for more days like today.

Twenty-four hours may not seem like much, but sometimes they are worth everything.

 

 

### XXI.

On Monday evening, after dinner, Alex is sitting at the desk in his bedroom with a notepad in his lap. He’s making a list. He looks it over, scribbles something at the bottom, then looks at Zach. His boyfriend is lying slouched on the bed and is looking at his phone. His notepad lies on the nightstand, as pristine as it was fifteen minutes ago.

“Zach, this is serious!”

“I know! I’ve got it.” Zach motions at his phone. “Some of us live in the twenty-first century.”

Alex throws his pen at him. Zach effortlessly catches it with one hand, which is annoying but also kind of sexy. Before things get out of control (and they _are_ going to get out of control if Zach keeps smiling at him like that), Alex gets back on topic. “You first.”

“Well,” Zach scrolls through a list on his phone. “I’ve got, like, seven colleges who want me on their basketball team, but I’m only really interested in two of them: USC and Davis. They’re both good. USC is better, or so I’ve read, but I’m not ruling out Davis just yet. Especially since I don’t have the grades to get into USC. They told me it doesn’t matter, that they’re flexible with their requirements when it comes to athletes, but I can’t be sure.”

Zach wants to be a marine biologist; Alex doesn’t know what he wants to do for a living just yet, but he has managed to narrow down his area of interest to either history or social studies. He figures he can start by picking a few classes that spike his interest and declare a major later on.

“Well,” Alex says, “I’ve got USC at the top of the list but it’s such a long shot that I don’t even think it’s worth applying. Then Davis, where I might be able to get in if they’re into sad stories of kids who hit rock bottom and then pick themselves up. And I’m going to apply to the University of San Francisco, too, in case I don’t get into Davis.”

Zach sits up and looks at him. “Are we going to be that couple?”

“You mean the couple that makes life-changing decisions based on a six-month-old relationship?” Alex really wants to be that couple but also knows they shouldn’t.

“What I mean is… If we go to the same college, we can live together. We can see each other every day.” Zach smiles and Alex feels butterflies fluttering in his stomach. He goes on, “If we pick different colleges but they are close enough, we can see each other during the week-end. Davis and USF are so close that we can even see each other during the week. But if one of us goes to USC and the other stays here in the Bay Area… I mean, Los Angeles is not on the other side of the country but it takes, what, seven hours to get there by car?”

They both know that seven hours mean long-distance and long-distance means breaking up because it would be too hard.

Alex looks at his list. He knows the chances of him getting into USC are almost non-existent. He thinks he can get into Davis and he knows he can get into USF. But USF is not even on Zach’s list. Davis is there, but their Biology Department is not as good as USC’s. If they both offer him a scholarship, Zach should go to USC. And, considering they’re flying him to Los Angeles next week-end for an official visit, it seems extremely likely that they _are_ going to offer him a scholarship. He would be holding Zach back by asking him to pick a different school.

“Can we be that couple that doesn’t stress about it? We can apply and wait and see what happens,” he says. “It doesn’t really make any sense to make plans. We don’t even know where we’ll get accepted.”

Zach leans forward and pulls the chair Alex is sitting in towards him. “I like that.”

He kisses Alex and then smiles against his lips. “You know,” he whispers. “I wouldn’t mind being that couple who lives together.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind that either. Not one bit.”

* * *

When Alex first got out of the hospital last year, he couldn’t get up by himself, he couldn’t walk, he couldn’t even get dressed by himself. As he started getting better with the help of physical therapy, he learned how to maneuver his useless left arm into the sleeve of a t-shirt or sweater. He learned how to pull on his pants one-handed. He even learned how to tie his shoes. It took him forever, especially at first, but it was a step towards regaining some independence.

Buttons are no trickier than shoelaces. If anything, they are actually easier to deal with. But here’s the thing: if you do it right, you only have to tie your shoes once in the morning. Pants? Pants you have to unbutton and button back up every time you use the bathroom. So, if it takes you twenty minutes to tie your shoes in the morning, you manage. You get up earlier. (Or you run a bit late.) But it if takes you seventeen tries to button your pants (and the number of times you say _Fuck_ out loud while doing it is in the high fifties), then you switch to an elastic waistband instead. It’s the sensible thing to do.

So, when Alex puts on his jeans this morning, buttoning them at his second attempt and without even a single _Fuck_ , it’s not a small thing. At all.

It’s the result of almost eleven months of physical therapy. It’s been paid for in tears and frustration. It’s been _earned_.

It’s not just a pair of black skinny jeans. It’s a conquest.

There was a time, not so long ago, when he thought he’d never be able to leave Crestmont, never be able to go to college, never be able to live on his own. (There was a time before that when he didn’t even _want_ to, and that was even worse.)

Today he knows he can do it and this, this trivial thing, is part of the journey that took him from Hopelessly Broken to Sort of Okay.

It also doesn’t hurt that Zach likes it. I mean, there are worse way to start the day than your boyfriend waiting for your mother to leave the room so he can whisper, “I like what these jeans do to your ass.” Especially when that’s followed by a long kiss. It doesn’t change your life, but it just might make up for the fact that you’ve got Geometry first period.

* * *

Zach never thought happiness could be so simple.

He was raised to think that it required a well-paid job, a nice house in a good neighborhood, an expensive car and exotic holidays. It turns out what he needs to be happy is Alex wrapped up in his arms. He needs a person, _his_ person.

So simple.

Not that loving Alex and being loved by him is simple (although it is _easy_ ). Not that it’s trivial or insignificant (it’s not). It’s simple because it doesn’t require years of planning. It’s simple because it’s _enough_ , it doesn’t need to be better and bigger and faster than everyone else’s, it’s not a competition.

The weight of Alex’s head on his shoulder, Alex’s hair tickling his neck, their legs tangled together, the blanket messily wrapped around them, Alex’s blue eyes looking up at him through long lashes and the hint of a smile on his full lips. Alex’s heart beating in time with Zach’s, racing when they kiss, slowing down when Zach gently scratches his back and lulls him to sleep. Backrubs and lazy kisses. How Alex’s hair smells of lemon and peppermint from his shampoo, how perfectly Alex’s thin frame fits into Zach’s arms, how profoundly intimate it is.

The entire world becomes delicate and gentle. Life becomes sweet and soft. Everything fades away in muted pastel shades leaving behind a feeling of peaceful contentment.

Pure bliss.

 

 

### XXII.

Alex is pushing food around his plate. His stomach’s in knots and he can’t bring himself to eat anything. It started halfway through his third period and it’s only getting worse. No pain, not yet, but Alex knows the cramps are next. It’s been a while since he’s had one of his stomachaches, but he still remembers the drill.

Considering everything that’s going on, it isn’t surprising. Senior year and college applications are stressful enough on their own. If you add bullism, the situation with Seth and the thought of coming out to his father to the mix you get a perfect recipe for anxiety. If it weren’t for the meds he’s taking, he’d probably be doubled over in pain already.

The first time he googled the word _Anxiety_ he was 15. When he woke up from his coma and his doctors mentioned the word as part of their diagnosis, Alex was a lot of things but surprised wasn’t one of them. He’d known for a while. He’d just never told his parents. His mom already worried enough as it was, and his dad couldn’t have handled having a son so sensitive that he got piercing stomachaches from _feeling_ too much.

For too long, he had a prescription for painkillers instead of anti-anxiety pills because physical pain was something his dad could understand. Because it’s okay to take pills when you can’t even stand up straight from the pain. But if you wake up in the morning and have no idea how to get through the next five minutes let alone twenty-four hours, well, that’s just something you need to get over. _Man up_.

He feels a light, quick, comforting touch on his back and looks up from his plate.

“Are you okay?” Zach asks with a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m not hungry.” Alex pushes his plate towards him. “You can have it if you want.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Alex sighs. “I can’t eat. It’s my stomach thing.”

What Zach would like to do right now is take Alex into his arms and cuddle him, rub his back and kiss his hair, try to get some of the stress out of his body, fight anxiety with love. Since they’re right in the middle of the cafeteria, that’s not an option.

“Do you wanna call your mom? Or maybe go to the nurse’s office and lie down for a bit?” he suggests.

“No, it’s not too bad.”

Alex drinks some water in small sips. There’s not much he can do about the stress caused by school and college applications, and he obviously has no control over what Monty and his friends will say and do. He cannot look for Seth himself and, since the police haven’t found him yet, it’s unlikely he would even if he tried. There is only one thing he can do that might help lower his stress levels: tell his dad about Zach. The prospect of having to come out to his father looms over him like a dark cloud and is probably the biggest culprit for his current state. Since he has to do it, since there is no skipping that step, he might as well get it over with.

Zach is still looking at him. Worried.

“Zach, I’m okay. I know how to handle this, I promise,” Alex says.

* * *

It could have been worse.

That’s what Alex is focusing on as he lies on his bed after dinner. A dinner he didn’t eat because his stomach still felt too tight and knotted to even attempt to put any food in it. It still feels that way, but at least he’s not feeling sick anymore.

He stares at the wall, at its calming blue color. He takes slow, deep breaths, the kind he’s been practicing in therapy.

His father knows and his reaction could have been worse.

He was taken aback at first, as if the thought of his son being gay never really crossed his mind. As if he never made any remarks on his clothes, his hair, his interests. As if he was never relieved when Alex started hanging out with a group of guys instead of two girls. As if he never wondered.

He was also, very clearly, not happy about it.

But he still loves Alex.

_I love you anyway._ That’s what he said. Alex is trying to focus on the first three words and not so much on the last one. He told his dad, and his dad still loves him.

Sure, it’s not exactly what Alex _wanted_ to hear, because nobody wants to be loved in spite of their sexuality, nobody wants to feel like they’re doing something wrong by being who they are. But still. His father didn’t beat him, or shout homophobic slur at him, or throw him out of the house, or send him to a conversion camp. (Which Alex never really thought would happen, except when anxiety was taking over his thoughts.) His father didn’t suggest it was just a phase and didn’t say he had to keep it a secret because it was shameful, nor did he forbid him from seeing Zach. (Which Alex totally thought could happen.)

He said he loved him anyway.

Like Alex was broken. Like he was defective. But still loved, in spite of all his flaws, faults and shortcomings.

_This is Alex, my son: his left hand and leg don’t really work properly, he has anxiety, he tried to kill himself, and he’s gay. But I love him_ anyway _._

Still. Still, it beats so many alternatives. He should feel lucky. He _is_ lucky.

Alex breathes in, holds it, then breathes out.

He feels so fucking broken.

* * *

There’s a gentle tap on the door, then his mother’s voice. She must be back from work.

“Alex, honey? Are you awake?”

“Yeah, I’m awake.”

She opens the door and comes in. She’s carrying a tray with hot soup and toasted bread. She sets it on the nightstand, then sits down on the bed. Alex has his back to her and doesn’t move.

“I told Dad,” he says.

“I know, he told me.” Carolyn rubs his back.

“He said he loves me _anyway_.”

She sighs. She can see the good intentions behind her husband’s words, but she can also see how they hurt Alex. “He didn’t mean it like that,” she says.

“Yeah, he did.” Alex’s voice isn’t pitiful. He’s not feeling sorry for himself. He’s _hurt_.

“He’s trying. Give him some time to get there. _I love you anyway_ isn’t a bad place to start.”

Alex nods, because she’s right. He knows she is. And maybe tomorrow he’ll feel like that, too. He’s aware that anxiety is responsible for most of his dark thoughts, that his feelings of worthlessness come at least as much from inside his head as from his father’s words. Being aware of it doesn’t make it go away, but it does give him some perspective. He’ll feel better tomorrow, or the day after that. He’ll be grateful for his father’s reaction because it could have been so, so much worse. He’ll be up for giving him time to get used to the idea.

Tonight, though…

His mother seems to realize it, too. “Do you want a hug?”

“No.”

“Do you want a hug from Zach?”

Pause.

“Yes.”

Of course, he does. But he hasn’t even called him yet because Zach would get in the car and be at his doorstep in record time, and Alex doesn’t think his dad could deal with having his son’s boyfriend in his house right now. He needs to process first. To sleep on it. Maybe to take a trip to the shooting range, too.

“Eat some soup, then put on your shoes. I’ll drive you to Zach’s,” Carolyn says. If this is what Alex needs to feel better, this is what she’ll give him.

“Really?” Alex slowly rolls to his back and sits up. He looks at her for the first time.

“Really. But soup first.”

“Okay,” he says. And then he surprises her by giving her a quick hug. “Thank you, Mom.”

She feels like a good parent today.

* * *

Buried into Zach’s chest, with his boyfriend’s arms around him, Alex finally starts breathing more easily. The fabric of Zach’s hoodie feels soft against his cheek. Zach is rubbing his back in slow, soothing circles to help him relax and his stomach no longer feels tied in knots.

He tells Zach about the conversation he had with his father earlier today and lets Zach comfort him.

“I love you, period,” Zach says.

“Me too. I love you, period, too.”


	6. October (Part 2)

### XXIII.

It’s intentional.

It isn’t planned, but it is deliberate. Zach never lets anything _slip_.

“Alex is my boyfriend.”

Four words. They come out of his mouth in anger and hang in the sudden silence of the room like a bomb ready to explode.

Time stops. Zach holds his breath.

* * *

_Rewind._

Zach comes home late on Sunday, which has been happening more and more lately.

Maybe it’s because he finds it hard to keep track of time when he’s having fun. Maybe it’s because there’s always one more kiss before he leaves. (And then sometimes three more.) Maybe it’s because outside, with his friends, with Alex, he can _breathe_ , so he doesn’t look forward to going back to his house. Maybe Alex’s perpetual tardiness is brushing off on him. Maybe he’s trying to get a reaction out of his mother.

“We eat dinner at 6pm sharp in this house,” she admonishes when Zach walks into the dining room at 6.23pm.

May must be at a friend’s house because his mother has been waiting for him alone, sitting at a perfectly set table. A pang of guilt hits him.

“I’m sorry. I went to the cinema and the movie ran a bit longer than I thought,” he apologizes. He doesn’t mention giving Alex a ride home and taking the long route because he didn’t want to say goodbye just yet. It wouldn’t help.

“Did you go to the cinema with your friends or was it a date?” Karen asks, as she fills two bowls with spicy vegetable rice.

“I went with Alex,” Zach says. He feels proud of himself for not lying by saying he went with his friends. He also feels ashamed for not saying it was a date.

Karen nods. “It’s smart, that you’re not dating anyone. It’s your senior year and I’m glad that you’re focusing on school. And basketball, of course, now that football season is over. Have you been working on your college applications?”

“I have. I have decided to apply to USC and UC Davis.” Zach eats some rice. It’s one of his favorite dishes. “Don’t worry, Mom. They’re good colleges and my coach says they will both offer me a full scholarship.”

“I’m so proud of you, Zach.” She smiles.

The conversation is going well, so it seems like a good moment to ask her about a college visit he and Alex have planned for next month. “Visiting USC last week-end was great. I was thinking of visiting Davis next month. I’ve been e-mailing with one of the guys on their basketball team, and he said he’d love to give me an unofficial tour.”

“I think it’s a great idea,” she says.

“Alex is also applying to Davis, so we’ll go together,” he adds.

The tone of her voice changes then: “Is that why you want to go to Davis?”

That’s all she says, but there is a long list of questions behind the one she asks: is that why he hasn’t committed to USC yet, even though it’s a better school? Is that why he doesn’t want to sign a binding written commitment with USC, even though they’ve asked him more than once? Is that why Davis is still on the table? Is it because he’s basing one of the most important decisions of his life on a high school friendship?

“I haven’t decided yet,” Zach replies. “Davis is a good school and it would be much closer to you and May. And yes, it wouldn’t hurt that Alex is probably going to be there as well.”

“You have to be smart about this, Zach. I understand that you feel sorry for this boy and want to help him, but I’m sure he’ll find someone else. You don’t have to, you know.”

How can she still think that the only reason he’s hanging out with Alex is out of pity or guilt? “Mom, that’s not why. It’s not why I spend time with him. I like hanging out with him. I like him.”

She scoffs. “That kid is…”

Before she can finish the sentence, before she can insult Alex again, before she can say he’s weird, or broken, or dangerous, or that he’s putting strange ideas into Zach’s mind – Zach interrupts her: “Alex is my boyfriend.”

She looks at him.

Silence.

He looks back at her and waits for her to react. There’s a tiny sparkle of hope in his chest and he can’t help but cling to it.

“No, he isn’t,” she says after a few moments. “He cannot be because you are straight.”

Her voice is clear. She’s _stating a_ _fact_ : today is Sunday, the Earth revolves around the Sun, and her son is straight.

“Well, clearly I’m not.”

His voice shakes with emotion and he hates it.

“You are not dating Alex Standall. You like girls.”

It’s like punching a wall. You don’t get anywhere and you only hurt yourself. Still, he tries to explain, to make her understand, to get her to see this isn’t bad news. “I do, I like girls, but I also like guys. I like Alex. I _love_ Alex. We’ve been dating for almost five months and he’s amazing. You should get to know him. I think you would actually like him. He listens to jazz music and wants to study history. He’s so great and I’m happy with him. Isn’t it the most important thing?”

But she’s not even listening. “Don’t say that. Stop saying that. You’re normal,” she says.

The last bit hurts the most. It cuts deep. Zach flinches. His eyes are wet. “I _am_ normal. I’m also dating Alex.”

“Not in this house you’re not.”

“Then I guess I don’t live here anymore.”

Zach gets up and walks away. He would stop if she called his name. He would go back if she said something. Anything. But she doesn’t and his heart breaks more and more with every step he takes.

* * *

Alex closes the door of his bedroom behind him, ignoring the rules because right now they don’t matter. He touches Zach’s arm but it’s only for a moment. Zach is pacing up and down the room, unable to stand still.

“I don’t know what to do,” Zach says. “Alex, what do I do?”

He stops by the window and turns around to look at Alex. Ho looks so sad. No, more than that: he looks heartbroken. Alex gets closer to him and then lets go of the cane to take his hand.

“Zach, I know it sucks so, _so_ much right now. But we’ll figure it out together,” he says. He doesn’t think it helped, so he goes on: “Your mom loves you. She’ll come around.”

“She loves a version of me that only exists in her head, she doesn’t love _me_. She doesn’t even _know_ me.” Zach holds Alex’s hand tighter. “I don’t know what to do. I can’t go back to my house.”

If he does, she wins. She will ignore their conversation and carry on as if he never told her that he’s dating Alex. Nothing will change. _Ever_. He cannot go on like this: all the words left unspoken, all the feelings buried deep inside are suffocating him.

He’s tired of hiding his feelings for Alex, tired of pretending to be who his mother expects him to be rather than himself, tired of acting like everything is okay.

“Then don’t,” Alex says. “Don’t go back. Give her some time before you talk to her again. Or maybe, I don’t know, maybe my mom can talk to your mom and see if she can make her understand that it’s not a bad thing.” Alex doesn’t know if his mother would do that, but she did say she’s on their side. “You can stay here.”

Zach shakes his head. “What about your dad?”

Alex and his father are still struggling to have even the simplest interactions. Zach moving in is _not_ what they need right now.

“I don’t know,” Alex admits. “But you’re staying here.”

Where else could he go, really? The Jensens already have their hands full with Justin, especially now, with Seth and all the issues he brought back. They would let Zach sleep over for a couple of nights, but no longer than that. Jess’s house is out of the question: her father doesn’t even like when they all hang out in her room together during the day, he’s not going to allow a boy to sleep over, not even on the couch in the living room.

“Are you sure, Alex?”

“Yes.”

Zach looks down. “What if she never… accepts me?”

He draws a sharp breath and turns around. He stands with his back to Alex, looking out the window and trying not to cry. He feels Alex’s hands on his waist – the firm pressure of his right one, the lighter, more uncertain touch of his left one – sliding slowly across his chest so that his arms are around him. Alex presses himself against his back and Zach doesn’t see a point in fighting back tears anymore.

Alex feels quiet sobs shake Zach’s body and holds him tighter, as tight as he possibly can, hoping it’s enough.

* * *

Alex and Zach are sitting next to each other, so close together that their knees are touching under the table. Zach does most of the talking. He tells Carolyn what happened, and that he’s tired of the secrets, of the lies, of acting like everything is fine when it isn’t, of keeping up appearances for the sake of neighbors and friends.

“She thinks if you don’t talk about it, if you pretend like it isn’t happening, it’ll go away, you’ll forget about it, you’ll get over it,” he says. “She told me I have to be _normal_.”

At those words, Alex takes his hand and doesn’t let it go.

Zach then tries to justify her: “She doesn’t think it’s wrong for me to like guys, she just doesn’t want people to know. She worries about my future, especially since my dad died. And I get that. But how do I tell her that it’ll be okay when she doesn’t even want to talk about it?”

“Mom, can Zach stay here for a few days?” Alex asks. “Please? He can’t go back home.”

She considers it for a moment before replying. Even if she’s not friends with Karen Dempsey, even if she doesn’t agree with her parenting style, even if she thinks Karen is making a mistake, there is still an instinct to be loyal to her because they’re both mothers. All parents are members of the same club and they are supposed to stick together. But this is bigger than rules about curfew and house chores. There is so much more at stake here. Not taking a position is not an option, and if she’s not on Zach and Alex’s side, then she’s against them.

“Of course he can stay,” she says.

“Thank you, Carolyn.”

“Thank you, Mom.”

She reads the next question on her son’s face before he even asks it. “Your dad will be okay with it. I’ll talk to him. Don’t worry about that, Alex.”

Alex feels relieved that he won’t be the one having that conversation with his father. Right now, any conversation with his father is challenging, as if they don’t quite speak the same language.

“There are two conditions,” his mother goes on. “We have to let Karen know you’re here so she doesn’t worry, and you have to promise me you’ll keep trying to talk to her.”

Zach nods. “I’ll text her. And yeah, I’ll talk to her again in a couple of days. I’ll try to.”

“Now, I believe nobody here has had dinner yet.” She and Alex were about to eat when Zach rang the bell with a grim expression on his face and disappeared in Alex’s room. “Let’s get some food in you boys,” she says, then she gets up and starts reheating the dinner she cooked earlier.

Alex looks at Zach: he doesn’t deserve this.

For a brief moment, he wonders whether Zach would be better off if they broke up. He would, in time, fall in love with someone else, maybe a girl, maybe someone his mother likes. Would it be easier for him? Is Alex being selfish by not letting him go?

Guilt kicks him in the stomach.

And then comes the anger. Why should he feel guilty? He _loves_ Zach, all of him, with his weaknesses and shortcomings, in spite and because of them. He accepts it all. Even the things he finds annoying. Even when he’s mad at him, he still wouldn’t want him to be different.

He’s angry at Mrs. Dempsey for hurting Zach. He’s angry at the world for being so fucked up that someone like Mrs. Dempsey feels like she needs to protect her son from love. He’s angry at himself for being unable to fix it for Zach. Would it make a difference if he was a good student, an athlete, if he was mentally healthy and able-bodied, if he had a bright future in front of him? Would Mrs. Dempsey find it easier to accept their relationship then? He hates her for what she’s doing to Zach, and also for making him feel like he’s not enough.

Zach leans in and kisses his forehead, right next to his scar. “Everything okay in there?” he asks softly.

“Yeah,” Alex says. “I just wish it was easier, you know?”

Zach nods. “Yeah. Me, too.”

 

 

### XXIV.

Zach brings a different energy with him. Carolyn notices it right away, on Monday morning.

He wakes up before the sun is even up and goes running. By the time she manages to get Alex out of bed, Zach has already showered, gotten ready for school, and is sitting at the kitchen table having breakfast. When Alex finally comes downstairs, Zach leaps to his feet with a bright smile on his face. Carolyn is positive she’s never seen either of her sons _smile_ that early in the morning, or, for that matter, do anything that wasn’t strictly necessary. There’s a muffled groan coming from Alex when he finds himself pulled into a hug, then a kiss, a quick one, which would probably be a longer one if she wasn’t there.

“Good morning, _darling_. How did you sleep? Are you okay?” Zach asks. The _darling_ is a joke between them. It started last night and Carolyn’s best guess is that it comes from the movie they watched together at the Crestmont.

Alex leans against Zach, like he’s trying to disappear into his chest. “Coffee,” he mumbles.

“I could be jealous, you know? You’re here with me and you ask for coffee.”

Alex mutters something Carolyn doesn’t get because his face is still buried into Zach’s hoodie. Whatever it is, it prompts Zach to pick him up by the waist, hoist him over his shoulder and carry him to the living room. She hears a loud _thud_ that probably (hopefully) means Zach just dropped him on the couch, then laughter. Last time Alex she remembers hearing Alex laugh before breakfast, George Bush was still in the White House. Alex's voice – “You are such a jerk!” – then a pause – a kiss, maybe? – before she hears Zach say, “Yes, but I'm your jerk.”

She gives them a few more seconds, then she reminds them it's Monday morning: “Breakfast then school, boys.”

* * *

The dynamic between them shifts the moment her husband comes home. All day, she’s seen how comfortable they are with each other. The moment Bill steps inside the house, they suddenly become aware of the space between them, of where their hands are, of the way the look at each other. No more teasing each other, no more smiling at each other, no more _Boyfriend_ and _darling_.

While they all eat dinner together, Bill and Zach talk about the football season coming to an end and the upcoming basketball season. Zach sits up straight, calls him _sir_ , and is clearly trying hard to figure out what the right answers are, as if it was a job interview instead of dinner conversation. Alex eats quietly and doesn't make any of his usual sarcastic remarks about sports dominating their lives. They leave plenty of space between their chairs and they don't touch each other even once, not even by mistake while passing plates back and forth. She’s had Zach over for dinner before, and usually his fork finds his way to Alex’s plate as often as his own. (Last time, only a few days ago, he devoured all of the Brussels sprouts on Alex’s plate and then fed Alex his carrots when they thought she wasn’t looking.) Tonight, they barely even look at each other. They're acting like they're complete strangers for Bill's benefit.

The only time their relationship is acknowledged is after dinner, when they go upstairs and her husband calls after Alex: “Keep the door open, buddy, okay?”

As the boys disappear up the stairs, she gives her husband a look.

“What did I do now?” he asks.

Carolyn gets up to clear the table. “Last night you said it was okay for Zach to stay here for a while, but you’re not acting like it’s okay.”

Bill carries a few dishes to the sink. Twenty-six years of marriage and he still seems to think they get from the sink to the dishwasher on their own.

“I was nice to Zach. I talked with him all night.”

“You _interrogated_ him,” Carolyn corrects him.

He shrugs. “Maybe I’m trying to make sure he’s good enough for Alex.”

“You never asked any of Peter’s girlfriends why they’re not the captain of the basketball team.” Carolyn starts loading the dishwasher.

“None of Peter’s girlfriends played basketball,” says Bill, as if that was the point. She gives him a look and he sighs. “I’m trying, Lynnie.”

“Well, try harder, because I don’t want to lose Alex. I don’t want him to move out because he can’t stand living here anymore. I don’t want him to go to college next year and never come visit us. And do you know what the suicide rate for gay teens is?”

This is the first time she’s admitted it out loud, how much those statistics scare her. Alex was already at risk before, and now… She _cannot_ lose him. “He’s having stomachaches again, Bill. He’s struggling. We have to be on his side, both of us.”

Bill comes closer and brushes a few strands of hair off her face. “I will try harder, I promise.”

* * *

“I’m sorry about my dad,” Alex says once they’re alone.

“No, Alex, I’m sorry. Things were already tense between you two and me staying here isn’t helping.”

Zach sits on the bed next to Alex. Alex links their arms together and rests his forehead on Zach’s shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” he says softly. “I just wish… Like, everyone says it gets better, right? Well, I wish we could skip this part and get to the good part already.”

“Me, too.” Zach wraps his arms around him and pulls him even closer. “Some parts don’t completely suck, though.”

Alex smiles. “True. This is okay.”

“Okay? Only okay?”

“Well, you’re not kissing me, are you?”

Zach pushes him back against the pillows and presses his lips against Alex’s.

 

 

### XXV.

When May comes out of the dance studio after class, she’s surprised to see her brother’s car parked on the street. He gets out of the car as soon as he sees her and runs up to meet her.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi.”

“How about I give you a ride home?”

She looks at him right in the eye. “Are you just giving me a ride, or are you staying?”

She reads the answer to her question on his face before he even speaks. “I’m sorry, May, I can’t be at home right now.”

“Are you going to tell me why? Because Mom wouldn’t.”

When she came home on Sunday night and Zach wasn’t there, she didn’t think much of it. Zach was rarely home on Sundays and he usually came back after her bedtime. When he wasn’t there in the morning, she assumed he slept over at a friend’s. It wasn’t that uncommon. But when he still wasn’t home on Monday night, she asked her mother where he was. As it often happened with her mother, she didn’t get a straight answer.

Zach looks uncomfortable. He shuffles his weight from foot to foot and looks around at nothing in particular. “I told Mom something the other night,” he says, picking his words carefully. “She didn’t react well and that’s why I’m staying at Alex’s. Uhm, Alex… he’s not my best friend. He’s my boyfriend. That’s what I told Mom, that I’m dating Alex.”

He’s spent a lot of time, especially lately, wondering what his sister’s reaction would be. Never in a million years would he have been able to predict what she actually says: “Is that why he’s allowed to mess with your car’s settings? Like, the stereo and the AC? You never let me touch anything.”

He laughs. What else could he do? It’s not what he expected her to say, but it’s also the most perfect thing she could have said. “He’s not allowed to touch anything either. The fact that he’s my boyfriend is why I haven’t killed him yet even though he keeps doing it,” he says. He’s breathing easier now and he stopped playing with his car keys.

“He’s really cute. I like him.”

“Mom doesn’t. And she doesn’t like the fact that he’s a guy.”

May shrugs. “I don’t care that he’s a guy. It shouldn’t matter, right?”

“Right. But it does. It does to her and to a lot of other people.”

“So you’re never coming back home?”

He wishes he knew the answer to that question. Rationally, he knows he can’t stay at Alex’s forever. He _will_ have to go back. But he’s not sure his mother will ever accept him and he doesn’t know if he can put up with that.

“I’ll come back, but I need some time. I need Mom to understand that I’m not doing anything wrong,” he says.

May nods. “I get it.”

“I’m sorry that you’re in the middle of this mess.”

She hugs him. “It’s okay, Zach, it’s not your fault.”

“No matter where I live, I’m always here for you. You know that, right?” He hugs her back.

“I do.”

* * *

There’s a guy sitting at their usual table at Monet’s and Alex keeps staring at him with murder in his eyes.

“He’s not going away just because you look at him,” Jess points out.

“He might.”

They’re sitting by the window with two mugs in between them on the table. Jess sips her hot chocolate, then nods at Alex’s green tea: “Since when do you drink tea?”

He gives a shrug and wraps the string of the teabag around his finger.

“Is your stomach thing happening again?” she asks, leaning forward.

“It’s not as bad as last year.” Alex shifts in his chair. “It’s just this whole thing with my dad and Zach’s mother, and then school and colleges. I’ll be okay.”

Jessica takes his hand. “How _are_ things at home? With your dad?”

Alex sighs. “I don’t know. Like, he’s trying, I think? This morning he actually called Zach my boyfriend. But it’s still messed up. I feel like I’m letting him down or something.” The _anyway_ his father attached to the words _I love you_ when Alex came out to him is still hanging between them. It still hurts. He takes a careful sip of tea, checking that it’s not too hot. “Can we talk about something else? Tell me about you and Justin. What’s going on there?”

“Justin and I are… Yeah, I don’t think there’s a word for what we are. What do you call two people who used to date but are not dating anymore, and they are friends but also more than friends but not quite friends with benefits, and they kiss sometimes but they don’t talk about it, and they are okay with all that?”

“I believe that goes under the label _Complicated_ ,” Alex suggests with a smile.

She brings the mug to her mouth and takes a sip, then licks her lips. “It’s not, though. Or, at least, it doesn’t feel like it. It’s the opposite of complicated. It’s surprisingly _easy_.”

“Let’s call it _Good_ , then.” Alex shoots another look at the guy sitting at their usual table. He’s reading a book and doesn’t look like he’s leaving any time soon.

“Will you relax? This table is probably even better than our usual one. We can people-watch,” Jess says.

“I feel like I’m on display.” Alex looks out the window, then back at Jess. “Are you coming tonight?”

Clay has invited them all to play _Dungeons & Dragons_ and Alex is actually looking forward to it. Being someone else, even if only for a few hours, doesn’t sound too bad right now.

“As much as I wish I had something better to do than pretend I’m a fairy, I don’t, so yeah, I’ll be there.”

“Are there fairies in _D &D_?”

“I don’t know, I told Clay I will only play if I can be a fairy and he agreed.”

Alex laughs. “Then I guess we’ll see how many jokes I can make about fairies and me being gay before Clay gets too uncomfortable.”

“You are evil.”

“ _Please_. Chaotic neutral.”

He looks out the window again, just in time to see Zach park his car right in front of Monet’s. Alex is positive that Zach’s superpower is always finding a great parking spot.

“Why aren’t you at your usual table?” Zach asks as he walks up to them with May by his side.

“It was taken by that fucking guy with his stupid book and stupid cappuccino,” Alex says, making both Jess and Zach laugh.

“There’s no need to _hate_ him for that,” Zach smiles at Alex, then turns to look at his sister. He was supposed to pick up Alex and Jess and then take May home, but they’ve got time to sit for a while. “Do you want to drink something?”

“The hot chocolate is really good,” Jess says.

“I’ll have that.”

“You know,” Alex says, as Zach makes his way to the counter and May takes a seat next to Jess, “I think you are single-handedly responsible for increasing Monet’s hot chocolate sales by, like, 80%.”

Jess scoffs. “Hot chocolate sells itself.”

The guy with the book and the cappuccino walks up to their table and all three of them look at him.

“So, I’m about to leave,” the Table-Thief says to Alex. “But I wanted to give you my number. Maybe you’d like to call me sometime.”

Alex looks confused. Does this guy think he was _flirting_ with him? Either Table-Thief needs glasses, or his Go-The-Hell-Away look needs a lot of work. “Uh, thanks,” he says, when the guy hands him a napkin with a neatly-written phone number on it. “But I’m not going to call you. I’m already dating someone.”

“Too bad,” the guy says before leaving.

Jess doesn’t even try not to laugh.

“What’s going on?” Zach asks. He’s carrying May’s hot chocolate and his black americano.

“That guy just asked out your boyfriend,” May explains. She looks at her brother, curious to see what his reaction is going to be.

Zach sits next to Alex. “Well, forget what I said before. Alex was right: we should hate that guy.”

“He steals tables.”

“And other guys’ boyfriends.”

“He’s the worst,” Alex agrees.

May looks at Jess. “Are they always like this?”

“This is nothing. You should see Alex get super-jealous whenever Chloe flirts with your brother.”

* * *

Zach takes Jessica home, then drives to his house. Alex waits in the car while he goes in to get some clothes and a few other things he needs. He really doesn’t feel like talking to his mother, but he knows he should. He looks at the front door. He could just yell “Bye” and walk out. He could. But nothing is going to change until he talks to her again and so he drops his gym bag on the floor and steps into the kitchen.

“Hey, Mom,” he says. “I, uhm, I can’t stay long because Alex is in the car outside, but I wanted to say hi.”

She’s chopping vegetables for dinner. She doesn’t stop but he sees her flinch when he says Alex’s name. Like it’s a bad word. “Thank you for picking up May from dance class.”

“Of course. She’s my sister.”

“And she’s wondering why her brother isn’t here. You’re hurting her, Zach.”

The muscles in Zach’s shoulders visibly tense up. “I’ll always be there for her, whether or not we’re living in the same house. And May knows why I’m not here. I told her today.”

His mother freezes for a second: knife still mid-air, one tomato in her left hand. One second. One. That’s her whole reaction. And then she goes right back to prepping dinner. “You shouldn’t have told her.”

“Why?”

“You know why.”

“No, Mom, I really don’t.” Zach looks around the kitchen, trying to focus on the details so he doesn’t think about how much it hurts. “Can we talk about it? Or maybe you can talk to Alex’s mom. She said you can call her. That you _should_ call her.”

Karen shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. Why would I want to talk to her?”

Zach takes a step back. She couldn’t be hurting him any more than this if she sliced him with a knife like the tomatoes on the cutting board. “I thought you might have wanted to do it for me,” he says. “I have to go. Alex is waiting for me.”

He doesn’t give her a chance to reply and quickly walks out of the house.

 

 

### XXVI.

When Clay gets up on Friday morning, he almost steps on Justin’s sleeping form. Not on purpose, obviously. It’s just that he didn’t expect Justin to be lying on the floor of his bedroom.

“What the fuck, Justin?”

He walks around him, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

“Sorry,” Justin mumbles. He rolls onto his back and covers his eyes with his good arm.

Clay grabs a t-shirt and a pair of jeans from the closet. As his brain wakes up, he starts connecting the dots. There really is only one reason why Justin would be sleeping on the floor of his bedroom instead of his own bed, and Clay feels guilty for getting angry at him.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asks more gently.

Justin doesn’t answer right away. Clay is wondering if fell back to sleep when, finally, he hears Justin’s voice: “I heard noises coming from outside.”

Clay pulls on his t-shirt. “It was the wind.”

“Yeah, I know.” Justin sits up. He looks like he’s about to say more, but then he shakes his head. His defenses are up high. “Forget it.”

“You thought it was Seth,” Clay counters. He stops looking for a sweater and turns around. Justin shrugs as if it was nothing, but Clay can tell he got scared. Scared enough to put his pride aside, take his pillow and come into Clay’s room in the middle of the night to sleep.

He knows by now that making a big deal out of it would only result in Justin not confiding in him anymore, so he just says, “We should move your bed in here. It will be like having a sleepover every night and you can tell me how much I need to get laid right before we go to sleep.”

He expects Justin to make a joke, instead he just says, “Yeah?”

Hopeful.

“Yeah, we’ll do it today after school.” Clay turns his back to him and reaches for a black sweater inside the closet. “You could have slept on the couch, you know. It’s right there.”

“I would have if you didn’t leave all your shit on it.”

“You’re one to talk. Your room looks like a fucking tornado ravaged it.”

“And it still looks better than yours.”

Justin gets up and makes his way to the door, but before he leaves he looks back at Clay. “Thank you.”

* * *

Jessica is hanging out in the locker room. She’s waiting for Chloe to finish changing out of her cheerleading uniform and back into regular clothes so they can walk to Monet’s together.

“Do you miss it?” Chloe asks her.

“Cheerleading? Not really.”

Chloe pulls her hair into a ponytail. “Sometimes I feel the same. I mean, I feel that I wouldn’t miss it if I quit the team. But then other times I can’t imagine giving it up.”

“Sometimes I feel that way about this school. I can’t wait to graduate, but I also want to stay here forever, you know?”

Chloe bites her lower lip. “That because you have friends here. You’re not going to miss this place, you are going to miss them.”

“And you. You’re my friend, too, Chloe,” Jess says.

“Then tell me something: does Alex have a crush on me or Zach? Because he looks mad every time we talk and I can tell he’s jealous but I can’t figure out if he’s jealous of me or Zach.” Chloe looks at Jess, at her friend, the only one she has left. Her eyes beg Jess to tell her the truth. Not so much because she needs to know who Alex likes, but because she needs one person in this school who picks her first, one person who’s loyal to her more than anyone else.

But, of course, Jess picks Alex.

Chloe should have known better than to hope to come first.

She never comes first. She’s always an afterthought. A means to an end. Guys want to date her because they want sex, girls want to be her friends because she’s popular. Correction: _wanted_ to. She’s _that girl_ now. The girl who dated a rapist. The girl who stood by him. The girl who got pregnant.

“I don’t know who Alex likes,” Jess lies. “A couple of days ago he got mad at a guy because he was sitting at our table at Monet’s. He might be jealous of the fact that you and Zach are athletes.”

“Yeah, right,” Chloe say. She lets it go because she doesn’t want to look needy. “I’m ready, let’s go for hot chocolate.”

Jess hesitates. She hates not being able to tell Chloe the truth. She hates having to choose which friend to betray. But it’s not her secret to tell and so she respects Alex and Zach’s wish.

“Yeah, let’s go,” she says, following Chloe out of the locker room.

* * *

Getting Justin’s bed into Clay’s room sounded easier than it actually is and it takes them the good part of an hour to do it.

“I don’t think I was made for physical work,” Clay says. He’s lying on his bed, arms spread out, muscles burning.

“Now you know how I feel after training with Zach,” Justin replies from his own bed.

“We’re never moving it back to your room. This is your room now. You are sleeping in here until we move out.”

Justin laughs. He doesn’t say it, but he doesn’t mind the idea of sharing a room with Clay. He likes having a brother. He used to think that Bryce was like a brother to him, but he’s learning day after day how wrong he was. Real brothers don’t give you a place to stay just to throw it back in your face a week later to get you to do something you’re not comfortable with. Real brothers help you drag your bed into their room because you’re afraid of sleeping alone and never, ever make you feel bad about it.

Clay keeps talking: “And even after we’ve moved out, whenever we come visit and sleep over, you are sleeping in here because we are never moving that bed again. It must be the heaviest fucking bed in the entire world.”

Justin smiles. The bed isn’t _that_ heavy. The problem was he could only use one hand and Clay has the upper-body strength of a lazy 5-year-old. He’s positive that it would take Zach and himself about three minutes to move it back to his room, but he doesn’t say that. Clay probably knows that already anyway. What he’s saying is not that the bed is too heavy, but that Justin can stay for as long as he needs.

“Let’s agree to never tell anyone how long it took us to move it in here. Especially not my coach,” Justin says. He kicks off his shoes and lies down on the bed. “I talked to him today. He thinks I still have a chance at a scholarship, even with juvie and my probation and my arm. He’s going to talk to a few scouts and explain the situation and tell them things have changed since last year. He said he’s going to help me.”

Clay turns his head to the side to look at him. “That’s fucking amazing, JJ.”

“Scouts are going to come to our games to see Zach, but he’s going to turn down most of them and that’s where I come in,” Justin explains. “That’s my coach’s plan, anyway.”

“Like a wingman… for colleges instead of girls?”

Justin laughs. “Yeah, just like that.”

* * *

When Peter comes home over the weekend, unannounced as usual, Alex knows he needs to come out to him. He just got started telling people and he’s already sick of it. He can’t imagine having to do it for the rest of his life with every person he meets and gets close to. It sounds exhausting.

Luckily, he doesn’t need a big speech to come out to his brother. He simply slips it into a conversation, and then waits for his reaction.

“Why do I have to sleep with Alex? Why do I need to give up _my_ room to _his_ friend?” Peter is complaining. “It’s still my room even if I don’t live here anymore.”

He’s talking to their mother but it’s Alex who replies: “Because Mom and Dad don’t want me to share a room with my boyfriend.”

Just like that. Casually. _My boyfriend._

No big deal.

Peter looks at him for a second. He seems slightly surprised, but doesn’t verbally acknowledge that he didn’t already know that his brother is dating a guy. Instead, he turns back to their mother. “When I was Alex’s age, you wouldn’t even let me have my girlfriend over during the day and now you let Alex’s boyfriend _move in_?”

Alex rolls his eyes. Leave it to Peter to make his brother’s coming out all about him. But Alex doesn’t really mind, not this time. He’s just glad he got it over with.

He walks out of the room: he can do without watching the newest episode of the You Guys Love Alex More Than Me saga that Peter likes to star in. He goes back to his room where Zach is waiting for him, sitting at the foot of the bed, controller in hand.

“Did you tell him?” Zach asks. He pauses the game and puts the controller down.

“Yeah.” Alex lies down on the bed. “He complained that our parents let you sleep here but never allowed him to have his girlfriends over.”

“Seriously?”

Alex smiles. “Yeah, seriously.”

Zach reaches out to put a hand on Alex’s ankle and rubs it gently. “Are you okay?”

“I’m good. I’m glad I told him and even more so that he didn’t make a big deal out of it.” Alex nudges Zach’s thigh with his foot. “My dad won’t be home for a while and my mom is busy with Peter’s whining. Come here. We can, you know…”

“Cuddle? Are _you_ asking me to cuddle?”

Alex scoffs. “Not if you’re gonna be a jerk about it.”

Zach crawls onto the bed and pulls Alex into his arms.

“Ask me again how I’m feeling,” Alex says.

“How are you?” Zach whispers before placing a small kiss on Alex’s nose.

“Fucking good.” Alex snuggles into Zach's embrace. He runs his hand up and down his boyfriend's arm, slowly, lazily. “How are _you_ , Zach?”

“Right this second? Fucking good,” Zach says. “Not right this second? Not so good. I feel like things are never going to be okay again with my mom. This morning I tried talking to her again but she just… She doesn’t hear me. I don't know how to fix it. I feel like I should apologize to her but what would I apologize for? I refuse to apologize for being with you. She should be the one apologizing, you know? But why do I still feel like I did something wrong?”

Alex knows what that feels like. He links their hands together and brings them both to rest on Zach's heart. “I hate that she's making you feel this way.”

“Me, too.”

“Zach, do you need to talk to someone? I mean, I know we're talking right now. But, like, with an adult? It sounds super-lame but sometimes it actually does help. So, if you need to talk to someone, I mean, you should,” Alex says. His eyes find Zach's as he asks: “Do you?”

“No. I mean, yes: my dad. But that's not happening.”

Zach rolls onto his back and looks up at the ceiling. He feels Alex's eyes on him and it's reassuring for some reason. Alex makes him feel _seen_. There's this one person on the planet who looks at him, looks after him, cares about him, listens to him. This person who, right now, is giving him all the time he needs to gather his thoughts before he speaks. He feels loved. He feels like he can share parts of himself that he has never shared with anyone else. Alex is his safe place.

“I talk to him sometimes. In my head. I tell him stupid stuff about my day,” he says. “And I told him about you. About us. I like to think he would have been okay with it. Maybe he would have hated it, I don't know, but I want to think that he would have been cool with it, like your mom. He liked you, you know?”

Alex remembers meeting Zach’s father a couple of times. Once back when he and Zach were just becoming friends and they went to his house to work on a Chemistry assignment together, and then again, briefly, at a baseball game that Alex only went to hoping to talk to Jessica. “He liked me?”

“Yeah.” Zach looks at him and smiles. It’s a melancholic smile and doesn’t really reach his eyes, but he doesn’t look defeated anymore. “He said you were different from my other friends and that was a good thing. He told me if I ever got a piercing or a tattoo he would disown me, but he also said that you had good manners and that you had _character_. Whatever that means. I could never figure it out, but he was obsessed with it. With me having character.”

“I think it means, like, being a _good_ person,” Alex says tentatively. The next words are anything but uncertain, though: “And you are. You are a good person and he would be proud of you.”

“I hope so.”

Zach cradles Alex’s face with his hand and kisses him.

 

 

### XXVII.

It comes up on Sunday afternoon, when they are making plans for Halloween. It’s not the first time Jess brings it up but it’s the first time she stands her ground: she wants to invite Chloe.

“She’s my friend, too, and she doesn’t have anyone else right now,” she says. “I don’t want her to be alone. What’s the big deal, anyway? I thought you liked her!”

She’s talking to Alex, of course. He’s the one who has a problem with it.

“I do. I mean, I think she’s nice. That doesn’t mean I want to spend the entire night pretending Zach isn’t my boyfriend and watching her flirt with him in her sexy kitten costume or sexy nurse costume or sexy whatever costume,” Alex says.

“Wait, we’re doing costumes?” Clay asks. “Because if we are, I need to know right now.”

The question earns him a stern look from Justin. “Timing, dude.”

Jess and Alex go on with their discussion without even noticing the interruption. “The fact that you assume she would wear a sexy costume is so misogynist! I expect better from you, Alex,” Jess says. “And, you know, she wouldn’t flirt with Zach and you wouldn’t have to pretend to be just friends if you just told her you guys are dating.”

“Well, it’s not for you to decide when we tell people. You don’t know what it’s like, okay?” Alex roars back. “We’ve been telling our families and it’s fucking exhausting. I just want one night when I can have fun with my boyfriend and my friends and not think about it.”

She gives him a look. The _You really think I don’t know what it’s like to share a secret and be judged for it?_ look. He immediately regrets his words.

“I’m sorry, Jess,” he admits, no longer screaming. “But I still don’t want to tell her.”

He gets up, flinching when Clay takes him arm to help him. “I can fucking stand on my own,” he hisses, before storming out of the room.

Jessica makes to get up and go after him, probably to scream at him, but Zach moves faster. He stands up and places a hand on her shoulder to stop her. He’s kept out of their discussion because he felt like it was between them, even though it very much involved him. But now the situation is getting out of hand. “His brother is in town, he didn’t get much sleep last night and his stomach hurts. He’s cranky,” he explains. “Just… let me talk to him.”

He walks out of Clay’s bedroom and finds Alex in the hallway, leaning against the wall, tears of frustration streaming down his face. He steps closer and wipes away a few tears with his thumb. It’s a risky move: Alex is just as likely to bite off his finger as he is to appreciate the gesture.

Alex doesn’t bite. Instead, he looks up at Zach. “How did you stop Jess from coming after me to bite my head off?” he asks. “I know I deserve it. I was an asshole in there.”

“You’re tired and in pain, you’re not an asshole. She’ll forgive you.”

“I guess.” Alex shrugs.

Zach pulls him into a hug. Slowly, gently. He doesn’t usually handle Alex like he’s made of glass, but he’s noticed his stomach cramps make any movement seem painful, so he puts extra care into not hurting him. He _guides_ Alex into his arms. He holds him close and kisses the top of his head.

Alex lets Zach’s love sink into his bones and take his mind back to a place where he doesn’t feel like he’s drowning.

“What do _you_ want to do, Zach? I didn’t even ask you.”

“Jess says Chloe will be cool with it and that she won’t tell anyone else. I trust Jess, so I think I’m okay to tell Chloe if you are. But if you don’t want to, we won’t.”

Alex presses his face against Zach’s neck, breathes him in while he tries to figure out what he wants and what he can handle. Unfortunately, they’re not always the same thing. He agrees with Zach: if Jess trusts Chloe, they can, too. That’s not the point. The point is: there’s a tiny, tiny possibility that Chloe will tell everyone. By mistake, even. Or because she’s fallen for Zach harder than they think and will hate them once she finds out they’re together. Alex’s mind is a master at blowing things out of proportion and making far-fetched scenarios look likely to happen. He can keep it under control now, during the day, in Zach’s arms. But he’s got no chance tonight, once he’s alone in his bed. It’s a battle he’s lost too many times to still hold out hope that he can win it.

Then again, they need to tell people at some point, don’t they? And starting with one person – one person his best friend trusts – sounds much less scary than _everyone at school_.

“Alright, so we tell her,” he decides.

“Are you sure?” Zach asks.

“Yeah. You?”

Zach hesitates, but then he nods. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

* * *

It’s the weirdest party Chloe has even been to. In fact, she’s not sure it falls under the definition of _party_. There’s no alcohol, no drugs, no people disappearing into random rooms to hook up, and, really, no _people_. Meaning, half the school hasn’t been invited and the other half hasn’t shown up anyway. Meaning, it’s just the six of them. Sober, fully clothed and with no plans of doing anything they will regret in the morning.

There’s pizza, chips, three different kinds of salsa, a stack of DVDs on the coffee table, soft rock music playing in the background and parents watching TV in the living room downstairs.

It sounds like a perfect recipe for the most boring not-party of the year.

It’s her fault, really. She should have known that _Clay Jensen_ couldn’t be able to throw a cool party. Apparently, he doesn’t know how to throw any kind of party.

She feels self-conscious in her dress and high heels. The boys are wearing jeans and sweatshirts, which isn’t too surprising, but even Jess opted for comfortable flats and a casual outfit. She’s clearly overdressed but nobody seems to mind. They don’t even seem to notice it and she probably has to thank Alex’s hair for that.

It’s blue. Not a deep Egyptian blue or a bright ultramarine. More like a pale turquoise that should clash with his natural colors but doesn’t. It works on him. His septum ring is back, too.

“I swear I’m never leaving you alone again,” Zach says. “What would you have done had it been a double practice? Gotten a full back tattoo?”

“I just changed my hair, Zach, don’t be a fucking drama queen,” Alex snickers. From his tone, it’s clear that both of them are joking. “And I thought you liked the septum ring.”

“I do,” Zach concedes. It _is_ sexy. Very much so.

Alex smiles. “I was thinking about getting a tongue piercing, too, but then…”

“You decided not to give your mother a heart attack?” Clay suggests. He’s lying on his bed with Justin and they both look amused.

“Something like that,” Alex laughs. He looks at Zach. “Do you hate the hair?”

Zach runs his fingers through it and shakes his head slowly. “I like it. It’ll just take some time to get used to it. And I have a feeling that as soon as I do, you’ll change it again.”

“I might,” Alex agrees.

Zach drops down on the couch and pulls Alex onto his lap.

“Get comfortable,” Jess tells Chloe.

She grabs the bowl of chips and takes it with her to Justin’s bed. Justin makes a move to join her, but Clay pulls at his sweater: no way Justin is making him share the bed with Chloe.

Chloe is left standing in the middle of the room and quickly takes a seat on the edge of Justin’s bed, next to Jess.

“Thank you for inviting me,” she tells Clay and Justin, then she turns to look at the other two boys. “And thank you for trusting me. I haven’t had a chance to say it yet because I didn’t want to mention it at school in case someone was listening, but I’m grateful that you decided to tell me about your relationship. And, of course, I won’t tell anybody. Your secret’s safe with me. Oh, and I think you make a cute couple.” She’s rambling. She does that when she’s nervous and trying to act like she isn’t.

The truth is, when Jess told her about Zach and Alex, she was fine with it. Was she a little bit disappointed that Zach wasn’t, in fact, single? Sure. But it’s not like she’s _in love_ with him. And the fact that they’re two boys doesn’t make a difference to her. So this should be easy… but it isn’t. She feels like she needs to prove something. That she’s cool with it. That she’s not closed-minded. That they made the right choice by trusting her.

“Thank you,” Alex says. He looks comfortable, sprawled out on the couch with his back resting against Zach and Zach’s arm slung across his chest. Chloe has never seen him so at ease. He goes on with an apologetic tone: “Look, I’m sorry that I was a jerk to you during study group these past few weeks. I was… jealous.”

“We’re good,” she promises.

“Okay, now can we get this fucking party started?” Justin asks. “I’m beginning to feel like I accidentally walked into a fucking girl’s night with all this talk about hair and boys.”

“Are you jealous, Justin?” Jess teases. She eats a few chips, looking at him.

Clay backs her up: “Maybe we should dye _your_ hair, Justin, what do you say?”

“You’d look good with orange or pink hair,” Jess goes on.

“Fuck you both.” Justin gets up and takes possession of the pizza box.

“Hey, man, I was eating that!” Zach complains.

Justin gives him an unapologetic look. “Come and get it, then.”

“Don’t you fucking dare move, Boyfriend,” Alex warns. He’s too comfortable right now. Zach can eat later. They’ll probably order more pizza soon anyway.

Zach doesn’t move from his current position on the couch and shoves a handful of popcorns into his mouth instead. “We’re not done, Justin.”

“Yeah, alright, Dempsey,” Justin says, making a show of biting into a lukewarm slice of pepperoni pizza. “We’ll pick this right up after you’re done _cuddling_.”

“Damn right.”

Zach kisses Alex’s hair. He likes seeing him so relaxed: it’s been a while. Things are not okay, not yet, but now that Peter has left, that his father is actually making an effort, and that Chloe knows and didn’t tell the whole school, Alex is finally sleeping better and breathing easier. His stomach stopped giving him trouble and his body is no longer tense. Zach is feeling better, too. Alex’s mood affects his own and he’s definitely feeling less stressed out. If only he could fix his relationship with his mom, things would be almost close to normal. But he’s not going to think about his mother tonight. He’s going to relax and enjoy himself.

Jess stands up and hold out her hand to Chloe. “Let’s dance,” she says.

So they dance in the middle of the room. And it’s not the sexually charged kind of dancing that Chloe’s used to, nor the awkward kind that she remembers from her freshman year. It’s the dorky kind of dancing you usually do in the privacy of your own bedroom. It’s the dance-like-nobody’s-watching kind of dancing and it doesn’t matter that there _are_ people there watching because nobody’s judging.

And then Jess makes Justin get up and dance with her, so Justin starts nagging Clay to get off his ass and join them.

“I don’t dance,” Clay says defensively.

“I don’t fucking care,” Justin counters.

Alex turns his head and looks at Zach. “Wanna dance?”

It’s not like Alex wants to get out of Zach’s embrace and get up, but how many chances do they get to dance together? So he’s happy when Zach says, “With you? Always.”

The song is too fast for Alex but it doesn’t matter. Zach helps him up and then holds him close as they sway. There’s barely enough space for them all to dance and they keep bumping into each other, but it doesn’t matter.

They mock fight. They tease each other without ever hurting each other. They laugh together, not at each other. (They do, however, throw popcorn kernels at each other.) They order more pizza. (Extra cheese, because that’s how Clay likes it, but without mushrooms because Jess hates them.) They play a two-hour-long game of Monopoly to decide who gets to pick a movie, and then it’s too late to watch it but nobody cares.

It’s the very best non-party Chloe has even been to and it’s the most fun she’s had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note: September & October are very busy months for me at work so I don't have as much time to write as I would like. Updates are still coming, it will just take a bit longer. Rest assured: I am not abandoning this fanfic.
> 
> If you're wondering how long it's going to be till the next chapter, you can leave a comment here (I reply to all comments, even if sometimes it takes me a few days to get to them) or get in contact with me on [Tumblr](https://chiara-writes-zalex.tumblr.com/) (where I ramble about 13RW, Zalex, and writing).


	7. November (Part 1)

### XXVIII.

Alex is napping when Zach comes home after practice. Zach collapses on the bed next to him and lies there quietly for a few minutes. He looks at his boyfriend, who’s still sleeping somehow, even though Zach wasn’t exactly careful in his movements. Alex has his back to him. His hair looks almost green in the low light of the late afternoon. Zach runs his fingers through it, then rubs his back. Up and down, slowly.

Zach waits a few more minutes before flopping onto his side and sliding his left arm around Alex’s waist. He can’t help but smile as he notices that Alex is wearing one of his hoodies. It’s too big for him but he looks comfortable in it. Zach kisses Alex’s jaw, then his shoulder.

“Alex?” he calls gently. “Nap time is over, wake up.”

“Mhm?”

Alex doesn’t open his eyes but Zach can tell he’s awake because he snuggles closer.

“Alex?” he whispers. He kisses his shoulder again.

“I’m awake,” Alex mumbles sleepily.

“Your mom said dinner will be ready in half an hour.”

“’kay.”

Zach pulls him closer and kisses the corner of his mouth. “So, should I go to the police station about my hoodie or can I report the theft directly to your dad when he comes home?” he asks.

Alex smiles and opens his eyes. “You can report whatever you want. My dad is gonna make it go away for me.”

“Dude, you’re literally wearing it right now.”

“And you are literally in love with me wearing it,” Alex counters. Then, mockingly, he adds: “ _Dude_.”

Zach cannot argue with that, so he pulls the hood over Alex's head and over his eyes, just to mess with him, then rolls him onto his back and kisses him. “Yeah, I'm kinda in love with you, _dude_. Even when you steal my clothes.”

“I love you too. _Dude_.” Alex blindly attempts to kiss Zach's lips but finds his cheek instead. He pulls the hood back and away from his eyes and looks at Zach. “Even when you're jerk.”

He rolls to his side and rests his forehead against Zach’s shoulder. Zach knows by now that Alex is only this cuddly when he’s tired. “Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yeah, just sleepy,” Alex mumbles. “How was practice?”

“Monty entertained us all with his stupid fucking jokes and when Anders told him to cut it out, they got into a fight and coach got angry and made us run suicides for half an hour. So, yeah, just great,” Zach replies.

“I’m sorry, Zach.”

Zach sighs. “I can’t wait for Justin to be back.”

“It shouldn’t be too long now, right?” Alex lays his hand on Zach’s chest and gently moves it up and down. “He gets his cast off today.”

“Yeah, he’ll probably be back in a week or two. Coach wants him to come to practice as soon as possible, even if he’s not able to play just yet,” explains Zach. “You know, it was easier when we were playing football. With Monty, I mean. He was still an asshole, but at least he was an asshole on a big field. Now it feels like wherever I look, he’s there. His insults and stupid jokes are the soundtrack of every fucking practice.”

“I say we murder him and make it look like an accident,” Alex suggests.

“Don’t tempt me, Alex.”

Alex’s lips curve into a small smile. “We are going away for the week-end,” he reminds Zach. “Think about that when Monty is a jerk tomorrow.”

They are driving to UC Davis to visit the campus on Saturday and they’re spending the night there. They’re both looking forward to getting away from their problems for a couple of days, and to let themselves indulge in a dream of attending the same college next year.

They need that dream in order to survive the stress of making such a big decision and the pressure of being good enough to achieve the goals they’re setting for themselves. Sometimes Alex thinks it was easier not to care, not to have any dreams of plans for the future, but then he remembers how empty he felt last year.

Caring isn’t optional. Life only comes as a full package. There’s no _À La Carte_ menu. Disappointment and heartbreak are part of the deal if you want to feel fulfillment and love. You have to be willing to feel pain if you want to feel alive.

You have to deal with bullies like Monty if you want to get out of high school and build a future.

It’s not fair, but fair was never part of the deal. Alex and Zach both know that all too well.

“Yeah, I’ll think about this weekend and Davis,” Zach promises. “And you. And last night.”

“Last night was good,” Alex agrees. “I’m glad we told Chloe, by the way. Thank you for helping me realize I was wrong to worry about her. You know, maybe we could tell Sheri, Cyrus and Mackenzie, too. Then when we’re doing study group, we don’t have to worry about hiding.”

“We could,” Zach says.

He sounds uncertain so Alex asks, “Do you think they wouldn’t be cool with it?”

“No. I’m sure they would be. But, Alex, the more people we tell, the greater the risk of everyone at school finding out. I don’t think any of them would tell other people on purpose but they could let it slip by mistake.”

“Maybe it wouldn’t be the worst thing if everyone at school knew about us.” Alex looks at Zach. He can see that the idea scares him. He’s scared, too. But he’s also getting tired of hiding.

“Alex…” Zach shakes his head. “I can’t.”

Alex sighs. He doesn’t want to fight about it. Not right now. “It’s fine. It was just an idea.”

“Why do you want to tell everyone?” asks Zach, curious. “I mean, last week you didn’t even want to tell Chloe.”

“It’s not that I didn’t want to, it’s that it scared me. And telling everyone terrifies me,” Alex tries to explain. “But hiding fucking sucks and I think we’re missing out on so much because of it. Do you ever wonder what it would be like to kiss me during lunch? Or to take my hand when we go somewhere? Or go to the Winter Formal and dance with me? Because I do, Zach.”

“I do, too,” Zach says. No hesitation. “But I also think about what Monty and his friends would say. And maybe it’s selfish, but I also have to think about scholarships, Alex. It might be 2018 but guys who like guys don’t usually get to play sports. It makes coaches and other players uncomfortable, or they _think_ they should be uncomfortable, or _people_ think they should be uncomfortable, or whatever. The point is, the number of openly gay basketball players is… it’s fucking low, Alex, okay? And I don’t want to be a pro player but I do want to play in college. And I kind of need it, too. There’s no way I’m getting into USC or Davis on grades alone and even if I did, I’m not sure my mom could pay for it. She never tells me anything but I know she worries about money now that my dad isn’t here.”

Zach looks at Alex, eyes bright with tears he’s trying hard not to let fall. “I don’t know if colleges would still want me if they knew about us. And I know it sucks and it’s not fair and it’s…”

“No, Zach,” Alex interrupts. “It’s okay. I get it. Yeah, it sucks, but I totally get it.” He takes Zach’s hand. He wants him to know that he’s on his side. “It’s not your fault, okay? And we don’t need to tell anyone else.”

“I’m really sorry, Alex.”

Alex kisses him. Slowly, lovingly.

“I don’t care if I can’t do it in front of everyone,” he says. “I know we love each other. I don’t need the world to know, too.”

That dream? Of kissing Zach before he rushes off to first period, of holding hands in the cafeteria, of wearing a t-shirt with _#7_ – Zach’s number – printed on the back at his basketball games and pretending to be doing it ironically. Yeah, he can let go of that dream for Zach.

“You know I’m not ashamed of you or us, right?” Zach asks. “It’s only about basketball and colleges.”

“I know. Maybe remind me sometimes, but I do know.”

Zach climbs on top of him, framing Alex’s slim hips with his strong legs and supporting himself on his left arm so as not to crush him with his weight, right hand resting over his heart. Alex’s new hair color makes his eyes look more blue than usual. He looks small in Zach’s hoodie but not fragile. That’s not a word Zach would _ever_ use to describe Alex. “I love you and I’m so proud of being your boyfriend and I wish I could shout it from the rooftops… or something like that.”

“Shouting it from the rooftops is so cliché,” Alex says with a smile. “And so last century. Let’s wish we could write it in all caps on Instagram under a picture of our coffees.”

Zach kisses him again. “Can we have some cinnamon rolls with those coffees?”

Alex laughs. “Totally not the point. But yes, we can have whatever you want.”

“We should go to Monet’s after dinner.”

“Your sugar addiction is getting out of hand, but I’m nothing if not an enabler,” Alex says with a smile.

* * *

Before his suicide attempt, Alex would sit in his father’s study one or two nights a week for fifteen minutes and have a conversation with him. They still do that, but his father usually comes to his bedroom instead because by the end of the day Alex is usually tired and going up and down the stairs still takes a lot out of him. His father used to clean his gun while they talked. He doesn’t do that anymore. His father used to give him advice on how to be a good man. (Accent on “man,” according to Alex.) Now he mostly just encourages him to keep trying and to do his best. On good days, it sounds to Alex like _support_. On bad days, _lowered expectations_.

Tonight, it looks a lot like _trying_ , which isn’t a bad thing at all.

“What time do you leave tomorrow?” his father asks.

“Uhm, I think Zach said around nine,” Alex says. “It takes a couple of hours to get there.”

Bill nods, as if that was the answer he was looking for. “Good. And you’re all settled for the night?”

“Yes, sir. Zach knows one of the guys on the basketball team and we’re staying at his fraternity house.” Alex holds his breath. He knows his father won’t like the words _fraternity house_.

As predicted, his father frowns. “Buddy, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“We’re just sleeping there. We won’t drink or do drugs or engage in human sacrifice,” Alex promises, refraining from mentioning they won’t be having sex with strangers either.

“I trust you, Alex,” his father says. Then he adds, “And I trust Zach.”

Alex appreciates it. He also wonders if his mom told his dad to say that. “I will call when we get there and I’ll text you before going to sleep,” he adds. He knows the drill by now.

His father pats his shoulder awkwardly. “Good. And your mother wants me to remind you to take your meds, eat at regular intervals, and drink plenty of water.”

“Dad, I’m not going to survival camp,” Alex protests. He was trying to make a joke but the sigh his father lets out means he picked the wrong moment. Or the wrong audience. “I will remember to take my meds, I’ll drink a lot of water, and Zach gets hungry every two hours so there’s no way I’ll forget to eat.”

“Alright, buddy, that’s good.”

Bill looks around the room. It’s familiar because he’s been in here often, and yet it’s also foreign to him: he doesn’t know what most of the posters on the walls are of, and he doesn’t get why anyone would need a _No Parking_ sign inside the house. It’s the same with his son: he’s the same Alex he’s known for seventeen years, but he’s got blue hair and thoughts as obscure to Bill as particle physics. He’s got scars on his forehead and a boyfriend. But underneath it all, he’s still _Alex_. The same Alex he tucked into bed until a few years ago, who would hide behind him in a crowd, who would sit behind his desk at the police station when he was six years old and pretend he was a cop.

“How’s Zach doing with his scholarships?” he asks. Maybe he will never understand the point of that _No Parking_ sign, but he can at least try to understand the person his son fell in love with.

The _boy_ his son fell in love with.

“Good,” Alex says, a little surprised by the question. “A lot of colleges want him.”

“You know, I could help him with that. I helped Peter get his football scholarship, I have some experience,” Bill offers.

Alex smiles. “No offense to Peter, Dad, but Zach is a _much_ better athlete. You helped Peter get the attention of one college and that’s great. But Zach? Colleges are chasing _him_.”

_He’s proud of him_ , Bill realizes. And it shouldn’t surprise him but it does because Alex always regarded sports as a lesser kind of activity, reserved to those too dumb to do anything else. “I could still help,” he says. “I know sports, I know how to talk to coaches.”

“I think you should tell him that,” Alex agrees. And then his voice softens as he adds, “I think he would really appreciate it.”

Bill pats his arm again, then gets up. “Get some rest now, okay?”

“Yes, sir.”

Alex watches him walk towards the door. He’s almost in the hallway when he calls after him. “Dad? Thank you.”

“I love you, buddy,” his father says, turning around to smile to him.

“I love you, too, Dad.”

* * *

Mark is _tall_. Taller than Zach.

His long legs, rich black skin and broad shoulders make Alex feel very short, very pale and very broken. But his easy smile and bright eyes also make him feel welcome. The right sleeve of his jumper is covered in multicolored badges. Alex recognizes a few band logos, and notices a funny one ( _Cleverly disguised as a responsible adult_ ), an ironic one ( _Badges are stupid_ ), a white one with a big, black semicolon on it that makes him instantly relate to Mark, and… and a rainbow flag with _Ally_ written in fat white all-caps letters.

Maybe Zach notices it, too. Maybe that’s why he does it.

“Alex, this is Mark,” Zach makes the introductions. “Mark, this is Alex, my boyfriend. He’s also applying to Davis.”

_Alex, my boyfriend._

Those words fill Alex’s heart chest with a warm feeling of joy.

“Nice to meet you, man,” Mark says. He offers his right hand, then notices the cane and quickly offers his left one instead.

Alex smiles. “Right one’s fine. It’s my left hand that still doesn’t work right,” he says lightly. They shake hands. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

“Biology like Zach?” Mark asks.

“Fuck, no. I would be failing Bio if Zach didn’t tutor me. I’m thinking History, but I’m not really sure yet,” Alex admits.

Mark points at himself. “Chemistry. I regret it every single day,” he laughs. Something in his voice tells Alex that Mark is actually a straight-A student. “My best friend’s roommate is majoring in American History. You’ll probably meet him tonight. Kyle. He loves to talk about himself so ask him as many questions as you want.”

“Cool. Thank you,” says Alex.

“Have you guys had lunch yet?”

“No, we only stopped for coffee an hour ago,” Zach says.

Mark announces they are starting the grand tour he’s got planned with lunch at his favorite pub, which, he assures them, serves the very best hamburgers in the area. They follow him and Alex is grateful that he doesn’t need to ask him to slow down.

While Mark is on the phone with his best friend to tell him to bring _his roommate’s lazy ass_ to the party tonight, Alex and Zach share a look. Alex doesn’t say anything, but his smile speaks volumes.

“The pin,” Zach whispers as an explanation.

Alex nods. He figured.

Zach looks happy, at ease, comfortable with himself in a way he hasn’t been since before the tapes. He takes Alex’s hand, looking at him to check that it’s okay. Alex’s smile lets him know that it’s more than okay.

* * *

“Change the station one more time and I’m leaving your ass by the side of the road,” Zach threatens.

Alex changes the radio station again. And again. And again. Until he finds a song that _doesn’t completely suck_. Zach keeps driving and doesn’t kick him out of the car.

“So, what did you think?” Zach asks after a while.

“About Davis? I _love_ it. And I’m sure part of it, a lot of it, has to do with being there with you and being together, like, openly, but I think I would have loved it anyway,” Alex explains. “There are so many cool people there. Like, where do they come from? Everyone at our school is so stupid and narrow-minded, so how comes there’s so many awesome people in college?”

Zach smiles. Alex’s enthusiasm is contagious. “I loved it, too. And the team is amazing. Not just Mark, everyone. I’d love to play with them.”

They went to their game on Saturday and Mark introduced him to all of his teammates. They made Zach feel part of the team right away and told him they were hoping to play with him next year. He didn’t feel that same comradery, that same sense of belonging when he visited USC last month. Granted, that one was an official visit so maybe that’s why it felt different, but Zach doesn’t believe it was the only reason.

He asked Mark about playing basketball and dating Alex next year, and Mark assured him that nobody on the team would have a problem with it and that neither would the coaches, so long as he kept it low-key and out of the media. Which, he translated, meant he could do whatever the hell he wanted so long as he didn’t kiss Alex in front of the cameras.

Zach hesitates before going on: he doesn’t want to get Alex’s hopes up but he also wants him to know what he’s thinking. “You know, I think if they offer me a scholarship, I’ll take it. No matter what USC offers: it’s a great school, but it’s too far away. From you, from May, and from my mom, too. Their campus is cool but it’s not… it’s not the kind of team where I could introduce you as my boyfriend.”

“Really?” Alex looks at him. “I mean, about choosing Davis.”

“Yeah, really.” Zach doesn’t take his eyes off the road but rests his right hand on Alex’s thigh. “Next time their coach calls, I’ll tell him I’m ready to sign a written agreement.”

Alex takes his hand. “You’re not doing it for me, right? I need you not to be doing it for me.”

“I’m not,” Zach promises. “I’m doing it for me. And for May: she’ll be in high school next year, I want to be close to her. And, yeah, I’m going it for us as well. Is that okay?”

“Fuck, Zach, it’s more than okay.” Alex feels a rush of happiness, and then, almost as strong, a paralyzing wave of anxiety. What if he doesn’t get in? “I need to really work on my application. Like, it needs to be the best fucking thing I’ve ever written in my life. I need it to say, _Don’t look at my grades and ignore my junior year completely_.”

“Alex, hey, calm down. You’ll get in.” Zach glances at him for a second. “We both will. We have to.”

They fucking _have to_.

 

 

### XXIX.

It was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

They were going to get accepted to UC Davis. They were going to get a room together next year and drive together back to Crestmont whenever they wanted. They were going to date openly. They were going to get a chance at being the sickeningly sweet couple who met in high school, went to the same college and spent the rest of their lives together.

They should have known that when something sounds too good to be true, it’s because it probably is.

“How the fuck do I tell him, Justin?” Zach frantically asks. “How do I do that to him?”

“Dude, I think you just… tell him. Alex will understand.” Justin is trying to sound more confident than he actually feels. He knows the chances of Alex taking it well are basically non-existent.

Zach shakes his head. “Literally twenty-four hours ago, I told him we would be together at Davis next year. How do I…? Fuck. How do I tell him I changed my mind?”

“You don’t. You didn’t change your mind. Circumstances fucking changed,” Justin corrects him. “And it’s fucking good news so stop acting like it’s not.”

It’s just the two of them in the gym. Zach takes a shot at the basket but misses it by almost a foot. He can’t focus right now. Justin runs to get the ball back and throws it to Zach. He’s not supposed to be playing yet, but he figures it’s okay so long as it’s just him and Zach and he’s wearing a brace on his wrist. He’s mostly just passing the ball to Zach and watching him shoot free throws.

“It doesn’t feel like good news,” Zach admits. “I know it is, but I just can’t be happy about it.”

“You don’t have to say yes, you know.” Justin looks at him. “I mean, it’s your fucking life, you can do whatever the fuck you want with it. They asked. You’re allowed to say no.”

“They haven’t asked, not yet. They just showed interest. And nobody turns down Stanford.”

He got the call an hour ago and it still seems surreal. He can’t believe that fucking _Stanford_ is interested in him. He takes another shot at the basket. The ball almost goes in but falls just short. He groans in frustration.

Justin shoots the ball. It’s a bank shot.

“Well, fuck, you didn’t have to rub it in!” Zach complains.

Justin laughs. “Sorry. You just suck today. Maybe I’ll make a video and send it to Stanford, so they won’t be interested in you anymore and you won’t have to tell Alex.”

Zach gets the ball back and bounces it a few times before making another attempt at the basket. It goes in this time.

“I’ll tell them I’m not interested,” he says. “I probably wouldn’t even get in.”

“They know your grades. They still asked.” Justin shrugs. “Listen, man, if you want to turn them down and go to Davis because you want to be with Alex, then do that. Who decided that putting love first is wrong, anyway? I mean, it’s fucked up if you think about it. Isn’t everyone always saying that people and relationships and love are the most important things? But then we’re supposed to take them out of the equation when we make our decisions? It doesn’t make any sense. Do whatever feels right to you. Whatever is best for you. Fuck what everybody else thinks.”

Zach seems to think about it, but then he shakes his head. “It’s not that simple. My mom would literally disown me if I turned down Stanford. It’s too big an opportunity. And you know my dad went there? So, yeah, there’s that, too.”

And yet he can’t stop thinking about Alex.

“Alex will understand. Maybe not right away, but he will understand.”

Zach knows that Justin’s right. He also knows it’s good news. He still wishes he never got that call.

***

“A recruiter from Stanford called today,” Zach announces after taking a deep breath. “He said they’re interested in me and will come down to see me play again next week.”

He looks at Alex. He sees his smile break, the disappointment on his face, and then his attempt to hide it. “That’s great. Congratulations, Zach. It’s… it’s great news.”

“No, it’s not,” says Zach. “Don’t lie. Don’t pretend. Not with me.”

“Well, what do you want me to say?” There’s anger in Alex’s voice now and Zach feels like he deserves every ounce of it. Alex is looking at everywhere but him. “It fucking sucks, okay? I’m happy for you and I’m proud of you, but it also fucking sucks because I’m fucking selfish. Is that what you want me to say?”

“No, Alex. You’re not,” Zach quickly corrects him. “And yeah, it fucking sucks. So fucking much. I… I’m really sorry, Alex.”

He tries to take Alex’s hand but Alex hastily pulls it away, as if Zach was hurting him. Maybe because he _is_.

“They probably won’t even offer me a scholarship,” he says, hoping to make things better. “I probably won’t hear from them again. We’ll both get accepted to Davis and we’ll go there like we planned. But even if they want me, I’m not even sure I want to accept. It’s not…”

“Stop!” Alex interrupts. “Just fucking stop. Stop making promises. Just go, okay? I need to be alone for a while.”

Zach wants to tell him why he’s thinking about saying no even if they do offer him a scholarship. He also wants to explain why he _can’t_ say no. He wants to reassure him that he loves him and that he wants Davis and their room together as much as he does.

Most of all, he doesn’t want to hurt him anymore than this.

“Fucking leave, Zach!” Alex raises his voice.

Zach stumbles to his feet. “I’m sorry,” he mutters before walking out of Alex’s bedroom. His eyes are wet. He lets the tears fall silently.

Why does he always end up hurting the people he cares about?

***

Alex waits until Zach predictably goes out for a run, then calls Jess.

“Fuck basketball, fuck my boyfriend for being good at it and fuck Stanford for wanting him,” he announces as soon as he hears Jess's voice.

Jess doesn't mind the lack of pleasantries. “Shit, Alex, I'm sorry.”

“And fuck _me_ for hoping we'd be together next year,” Alex adds.

She waits. She knows Alex isn't done yet.

“And fuck love and caring about people and fucking _needing_ people and missing people.”

One more, Jess can feel it.

“And fuck all this college bullshit.”

Yeah, now he's done.

“Do you want to meet for a hot chocolate?” she asks. “You sound like you need a large one.”

“No, I just need…” Alex starts. What _does_ he need? He can't even figure out what he _wants_. He wants what's best for Zach, which is Stanford, but he also selfishly wants to go to the same college next year, and he wants not to be selfish and just be happy for Zach. “I need for Stanford to never have called him.”

“What did they offer him?”

Alex sighs. “Nothing yet. Fuck, he said he's not even sure he wants to go there anyway. Jess, he would be doing that for me and I can let him do that. I want to, but I can't. It would be way too much pressure. For, I don't know, forever. If we break up, he's always going to regret choosing me over Stanford. And even if we don't break up, it's always going to be there. This thing he did for me. And I'm not… I'm not worth it.”

He doesn't even know what would be worse: not being with Zach, or being with him knowing Zach is settling for less than he could have. He hates feeling like that: weak, needy, worthless.

“I'm sorry to break it to you, but apparently you _are_ worth it to him. Your relationship is.”

“And that's not supposed to scare the fuck out of me?”

They decided not to take their relationship into account when picking colleges for a reason. It sounded much easier a few weeks ago.

“I didn't say that.” Jess sighs. “The point is, it's not your decision. It's Zach's. All you can do is support him, even if that means putting your self-hatred aside for a while and letting him make you feel like the most important thing in his life.”

Alex closes his eyes for a few seconds, then runs his hand through his short hair. “And what if he chooses Stanford?”

“I don't have a good answer. But can I offer you some denial, instead?” Jess suggests.

“You should write a self-help book.”

Jess scoffs. “Rude!”

“Fine,” Alex sighs. “I'll take some denial with a side of devil-may-care attitude. I've heard they go really well with an unheeded headset. Is that true, life coach?”

She can hear a smile in his voice. “It is. And some chocolate sprinkles on top.”

***

Zach runs until he’s out of breath and then he runs some more. Until his heartbeat drowns out all the noise in his head, until his lungs are screaming for air, until his muscles burn and his head is finally clear. Then he stands under the shower, feeling the hot water run over his tired muscles and letting his thoughts back in one at a time.

The white sweatshirt his dad used to wear on Sunday mornings, with _Stanford University_ written in faded cardinal letters on the front. How his mom never failed to mention they needed to get him a new one. How he sneaked into their bedroom, _her_ bedroom, after the funeral to look for it and hide it in his room because he knew his mom would get rid of all his dad’s things.

Last weekend and the thrilling joy of holding Alex’s hand as Mark guided them around campus. The feeling of _belonging_ there, like he’d been waiting his whole life to get _back_ to that place. How his potential future teammates called him _Zee_.

Could a scholarship to Stanford help him fix his relationship with his mom? Could it make up for the fact that he’s dating a guy? Or should he tell her he’s turning it down just to prove to her how much he loves Alex? Are his mother and her judgment going to be part of his decision no matter what?

He feels like he’s playing a game and he’s the only one who doesn’t know the rules. He doesn’t even know how you win the game. Is there one right choice? Is there a wrong one? How is he supposed to know which one will make him happier? Is _happiness_ even the goal?

He knows who his teammates are, though, and that’s not a small thing. If you have the right team, if you have people who stand by you no matter what, who make up for your weaknesses and encourage you to try again when you keep failing, then winning is still the goal but it’s not the most important part of the experience.

He turns off the water and steps out of the shower.

***

The door of Zach’s bedroom – Peter’s bedroom – is open but Alex still stands outside the room.

“Zach?”

After pulling on a hoodie, Zach turns around to look at him.

“Hey,” he says, as if he isn’t sure what to expect. “Look, I’m sorry I…”

“No, Zach, _I_ ’m sorry,” Alex interrupts. “I’m so fucking proud of you.”

Zach shuffles his feet, then runs a hand through his hair, still damp from the shower. “I feel like I’m fucking everything up. It’s what I always do.”

Alex closes the distance between them and wraps his arms around Zach’s waist. “You’re not and you don’t,” he whispers. “Remember what you told me when I started PT? _Let’s take it one step at a time_. We should do that. We’re together now and we can find a way to make it work next year. But we don’t have to think about it yet. Let’s freak out together about applying to colleges, and then freak out together about screwing up our whole lives by making the wrong choice when we actually _have_ a choice to make.”

“Yeah, I like that.”

Zach pulls Alex closer and, for a few moments at least, they both feel like everything is going to be okay – no matter what happens.

“We should go out. Celebrate,” Alex says after a while. “Tomorrow night, after the game?”

“It’s a date.” Zach smiles.

***

A bench with a view on the docks. A large black americano, two sugars. A vanilla latte with an extra shot of coffee. Fingers intertwining under the safe cover of darkness.

It’s been almost a year since the suicide attempt. They try not to make a big deal out of it and decide the best thing they can do on Friday is skip school and spend the whole day working on their college applications. Focus on the future rather than the past. Work on moving on. Don’t pick at scabs.

Alex jokes about replacing his application essay with touching videos of him pitifully walking around with his cane and crying to make the dean of admission feel sorry for him and ignore his average grades and poor attendance. By now, Zach knows his self-defense mechanisms and so he holds his hand and tells him he’s going to get in.

Then Zach tells Alex about the Stanford sweatshirt and how his mother is going to influence his decision, or at least try to. He looks out at the ocean. His eyes are sad, his shoulders tense. Alex reaches out and rubs his back. He's learned that, with Zach, cuddles often help more than words.

“Don't worry about it too much, okay? We decided not to stress over colleges, remember?” Alex reminds him after a while. “I mean, it's only our whole future we're talking about, right?”

“Right. Nothing more than our whole future,” Zach smiles, because the only way they're going to survive their senior year without going insane is by not taking it all too seriously.

“We'll be fine,” Alex says. He takes a long sip of coffee. “And since, you know, it doesn't matter at all, I actually did start working on my essay for Davis. Like, a real essay, not a video of me crying and begging. It's all about changing my life after almost ending it, and not letting my disability keep me from achieving my dreams. It's all sugar, rainbows and unicorns. It’s totally obsequious.”

“It can't be... _obsequious_... if it's true,” Zach says in between sips of his americano.

“Well, it might be true in a way, but it still sounds fake.”

Zach rests a hand on his shoulder and squeezes it lightly. “Don't stress it, remember?”

“Yeah, right.”

Zach drinks the last of his coffee, then tries to throw the paper cup into the trash bin a few feet away. He misses.

Alex snickers. “You were saying, about your basketball scholarship?”

“Fuck off!” Zach laughs, as he gets up to pick it up and drop it into the bin.

 

 

### XXX.

“Have you guys heard?” Chloe unceremoniously drops her tray on the table and takes a seat next to Alex.

“Heard what?” Justin and Clay ask at the same time.

Jess laughs. “We should have known that becoming _twins_ was the next step for you guys.”

“You can’t really _become_ twins,” Clay argues. “You have to actually share a uterus in order to…”

He’s interrupted by a collective groan.

“Ugh, dude, gross,” Alex complains. “I’m already having a hard time eating this veggie _thing_ my mom cooked. If you keep talking, I’m gonna be sick.”

“I was just… It’s _science_. Oh, whatever.”

Zach, who’s eating Carolyn’s _veggie thing_ with a lot more enthusiasm than Alex, turns to Chloe. “What have you heard?”

“It’s about Bryce.” She feels everyone’s eyes on her the moment she says his name. Jess reaches out across the table to take her hand. “He’s got a new best friend at Hillcrest, Gavin something. Gavin is dating a girl from our school, Sophie White. She’s on the cheerleading team, that’s how I know about it: all the girls have been talking about it for weeks. Apparently, Gavin and Bryce are coming to tomorrow night’s game.”

Zach and Justin look at her; Clay looks at Justin; Alex looks at Jess; Chloe and Jess look at each other.

“Let’s skip the game,” Jess says after recovering from the news. “We’ll go somewhere, just you and I.”

Chloe shakes her head. “What if he keeps coming to the games? Coach will kill me if I skip more than one game in a row. You know that.”

Zach and Justin share a look. They’re both thinking the same thing and they know keeping it from the others won’t make it any less true.

“Here’s the thing,” Justin says. “He _will_ keep coming. Bryce picks his friends carefully. He probably picked this Gavin _because_ he’s dating Sophie, so he would have an excuse to come back here. He wants to fuck with us.”

As if they didn’t have enough to deal with, with Monty already competing for Biggest Asshole in America.

“Can’t his parents buy him a new chew toy?” Alex sighs.

“What do _you_ want to do?” Jess asks Chloe.

Chloe considers her options. A few weeks ago, she would have quit the cheerleading team and solved the problem by hiding from him. But now? Now she feels stronger. “I’m moving on and it’s pathetic that he can’t do the same since it’s actually much easier for him,” she says. “I’m going to the game.”

“Then so am I,” Jess decides. “I’ll ask coach if I can sit on the bench with you. Or maybe _you_ can ask her, since she still hates me.”

Jess dramatically bats her eyelashes at Chloe until she gets a smile out of her, as well as a promise to talk to her coach. Meanwhile, Clay shoots a worried glance at Justin. Confronting Bryce is _not_ what he needs right now but Clay knows he has no chance of talking him out of it, especially now that Jess is going to be there.

“I’ll be there,” Justin says, as Clay predicted. He feels Clay’s eyes on him and quickly adds, “Coach wouldn’t let me miss a game anyway, even if I’m not playing.”

It’s the truth. It’s also not the reason why he’ll be there.

Clay sighs, then looks at Alex, who nods. “I guess we’ll all be there, then,” Clay says. “And I’ll ask my mother if she can do something to ban Bryce from the school.”

“Thank you, Clay,” Chloe says.

“Yes, thank you.” Jess gives him a smile but it fades quickly. “Although we all know most judges fail to see how a rich white boy could be _bothering_ girls. We should all feel so lucky to have his attention, right?”

“I did,” Chloe whispers. She looks down at her plate, ashamed.

Jess takes her hand again. “No, Chloe. That’s not what I meant. He made you think he loved you and he’s such a good liar.”

“Trust me, Chloe, I get it. He did the same to me,” Justin says. “He has this way of making you feel special, and making you think you need him and you’re nothing without him. He did it to me, too. For _years_. I did things with him and for him that I feel sick thinking about. I thought he was saving me from my mom’s boyfriends when they messed with me, but he was the one fucking me up the most. My whole life I blamed my mother for being too weak because she put up with guys like Seth, but I guess I am just the same.”

“Was,” Clay whispers.

“ _Was_ just the same,” Justin corrects. “The point is, assholes don’t always look like Seth and when they don’t, it’s harder to know you should get the fuck away from them.”

Zach nods. “He always knows exactly when to give you something you need, so you think you need _him_.”

“He acts like he owns the world, so you always feel like you have to prove to him you’re worth the investment,” Alex adds.

Chloe is sitting up straighter now. They get it. They _really_ get it. She looks at all of them, holds Jess’s hand tighter and shakes away the bad feelings. “ _Thank you_ , guys.”

She feels like she can do anything.

Even face Bryce.

***

Justin should have known what was up the moment Clay took the long way home, but he was distracted by a text from Jess. Had he been paying attention, he would have seen the detour for what it was: Clay’s way of trapping him in a moving car with him to talk about his feelings. If he’d noticed, he could have tricked Clay into talking about something else. _Hey Clay, what do you think about the latest_ Star Wars _movie?_ or _Do you know Zach pours the milk on top of the cereals?_ Either would have gotten Clay talking for at least ten minutes. If it came to it, he could have always used his secret weapon: mixing up _Lord of the Rings_ characters. _Why does the white evil wizard come back as a good white wizard after dying?_

But he was distracted, so he didn’t ask the right question at the right time and now it’s too late.

“It got intense today, at lunch. Are you okay?” Clay asks.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Well, I hope you’re not thinking about auditioning for the school play because you’re a shitty liar.”

Justin looks out of the window. “We have a drama club? And they hold auditions? Like, they can afford to turn people down?”

“How the fuck would I know? And it’s not the point,” Clay says. If Justin thinks he can distract him that easily, he’s delusional.

He stops at a red light and looks at Justin: he looks okay. Maybe he’s overreacting.

Justin waits until the car is moving again before he talks. He can’t do it with Clay looking at him. “I guess I’m feeling a bit stupid for sharing all that stuff in the middle of the cafeteria like it was a fucking therapy session. But it was okay. Chloe needed to hear it and I think I needed to say all that shit out loud.”

“Do you need a meeting?”

“Not right now, no,” Justin assures him. He means it, too. Opening up wasn’t that bad after all. Scary, but ultimately alright. “Are you worried about the game tomorrow?”

“I wish we weren’t going. Or, you know, that Bryce wasn’t coming,” Clay says. “But no, I’m not really worried. I’m not scared of him.”

Justin’s lips curve into a small smile. “You never were.”

“I think I was too pissed off to be scared.”

“Yeah, maybe.” Justin bumps him lightly on the arm. “Can you take me home now, or are you planning on giving me the fucking tour of this shitty town?”

***

Zach stops by his house after school and plays chess with May until their mother comes back home.

“Are you staying for dinner?” May asks.

“No, I’ve gotta go. I can’t.”

May looks at the chessboard. No matter what Zach does, she’s going to win in three moves. “She misses you, you know? She didn’t say it, but I can tell. And I miss you, too.”

Zach sighs. He gives a final look at the chessboard, then knocks down his king. “When did you get so good?”

“When did you get so bad?”

He laughs as he gets up. “I’ll talk to her. And I miss you, too.”

He finds his mother outside in the garden. “Hi, Mom.”

“Hello, Zach.”

He drops down on a lawn chair and takes a deep breath before telling her about the phone call he got from the coach at Stanford. “He’s coming down next week to see me play and he wants to talk to me after the game.”

“Zach, this is incredible. I’m so proud of you!” she says.

He can’t help but wonder why she’s proud of what he can do but ashamed of who he is. He pushes those feelings aside. He wants to try, really try to fix it.

Apparently, she’s trying, too, because she says: “Your dad would have been so proud of you as well.”

Zach closes his eyes for a moment. He feels a rush of pride at the thought, but also a stab of pain from the loss. It’s only ever the shadow of joy. Potential happiness, never really fully realized.

“It’s just an informal meeting,” he tells her, as soon as he trusts his voice again.

“I will be there.”

“It’s okay if you can’t. Coach and Mr. Standall are going to be there with me.”

Her lips tighten when he mentions Alex’s father, but she just repeats, “I’ll be there. I’m your mother. I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

“Come back home, Zach,” she asks. “You need your family.”

Zach wants to say yes. He _really_ wants to say he’s coming back home. But he knows he owes it to himself to expect more from his mother than the unspoken promise to never talk about his sexuality again. If he agrees to come home now, Alex will always be his _friend_. Whenever they get together with the rest of the family, his mother will tell everyone that he just hasn’t found the right girl yet.

He read in a book once that _we accept the love we think we deserve_.

Alex has taught him that he deserves more than silences and half-truths.

“If I do, can Alex… can my boyfriend come over?” he asks.

“You can have your friends over from time to time if…”

He doesn’t let her finish. “Alex is not _one of my friends_. And no, I’m not coming home.”

 

 

### XXXI.

Chloe self-consciously adjusts her skirt, trying to pull it down. Has it always been so short?

“We can still leave,” Jess reminds her. “It’s okay if you changed your mind and nobody would blame us if we failed to show up. Nobody who matters, anyway.”

“No, I want to do this.” Chloe looks at her own reflection in the locker room mirror. Her heart is pounding in her chest but she knows she can do this. She’s ready and she’s got backup. She stops fidgeting with her uniform and turns around to look at Jess. “He’s the one who should be ashamed.”

“If he was, he’d stay away from Liberty,” Jess sighs. That’s something that will always bother her: he still believes he didn’t do anything wrong. “But you’re right: he _should_ be ashamed and we’re not going to act like _we_ are.”

Chloe gives her a tentative smile. “Let’s do this, then.”

***

Bryce is sitting high up on the stands, smiling and looking perfectly at ease.

“Fucking rapist,” Alex mutters as soon as he sees him.

“We promised Jess we wouldn’t make a scene,” Clay reminds him.

“No, _you_ did. I promised I would do my best.”

Alex finds two seats a few rows below Bryce, right in between him and the basketball court. If he tries to get any closer to the benches, to Jess or Chloe or Zach or Justin, Alex is fully prepared to trip him or hit him with his cane. Consequences be damned.

Bryce laughs loudly and Clay can feel his skin crawl. “Yeah, okay, whatever you’re thinking, I’m in.”

***

Coach Patrick takes Zach and Justin aside before the game.

“It’s come to my attention that Bryce Walker might be here tonight.” One look at the two boys is enough to confirm that they knew already. “I want you to forget about him. Justin, you’ll sit on the bench and watch the game. No interacting with the audience, alright? And, Zach?, focus on the game, forget everything else. Don’t let him throw you off balance.”

They both nod. “Yes, coach.”

As soon as they’re alone, Zach and Justin share a look.

Justin lowers his voice so that coach Patrick doesn’t hear them: “If he so much as tries to talk to them…”

“We’ll _hurt_ him,” Zach agrees without hesitation.

***

One moment Chloe is surrounded by the other cheerleaders, the next she finds herself alone on the sidelines. She looks around. The game is over and most students are leaving the gym. Coach Patrick is talking to his team, managing to congratulate them on their victory and scold them for mistakes that could have cost them the game in the same sentence. Coach Loftin has cornered Jess, who would probably look less miserable if she was having her teeth pulled out without anesthesia. Alex and Clay are making their way down the stairs.

And then, suddenly, _Bryce_.

He is standing right in front of her.

She feels sick. She can feel his hands on her body as if he was touching her right now. She shivers in the hot air. She closes her eyes just as he opens his mouth to speak, but it’s not his voice she hears next.

“You stay the fuck away from her, Walker.”

_Zach_.

Chloe opens her eyes: he’s standing in between her and Bryce, fists clenched.

“Now, now, Zachy, don’t get all worked up. I just wanted to say hello to our Chloe,” Bryce says, winking at her. “I didn’t know you were fucking her now. Still trying to be like me? I can’t blame you, she’s a good fuck.”

Zach takes a step forward, forcing Bryce to take one back. “Of course you’d think that, because you think girls only exist for fucking.”

“You should leave now, Bryce,” Justin warns as he comes closer to stand by Zach’s side.

Bryce smiles.

The bastard actually _smiles_.

He takes a long look at all of them: Zach and Justin, looking ready to punch him; Chloe, standing behind them with her arms wrapped tight around her body; Jessica, frozen in place a few feet away, eyes on him; little Alex and Clay Jensen, right next to her, clearly ready for a fight.

“See you soon, guys,” he says. He takes a final look at Zach. “Take care, Zachy.”

He turns around slowly and walks away, as if he decided to go by his own free will.

Zach and Justin turn around. Zach reaches out to put a hand on Chloe’s shoulder, but he backtracks before he touches her. Only later will she realize how much this sets him apart from Bryce: he wanted to comfort her, but he realized the last thing she needed in that moment was to be touched by a guy.

“Are you okay?” he asks instead.

She nods. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jess says, rushing to her side. “I didn’t…”

“It’s okay, Jess,” Chloe reassures her. Now that Bryce is gone and the world no longer feels like it’s suffocating her, she does feel better. A bit shaken, sure, but not _scared_. Not _alone_. She feels protected. She takes Jess’s arm. “I just need a shower and to get out of here.”

Jess escorts her to the locker room.

“Are _you_ okay?” Chloe asks as they leave the court.

“Ask me in ten minutes. But yeah, I think so.”

Alex touches Zach’s arm. “You okay?”

“I wish I’d punched him in the face, but yeah, I’m okay.”

“What he said,” Justin echoes when Clay shoots him a worried look.

“Well, go get changed. I’m taking you to a meeting,” Clay decides.

“You’re so bossy. You’re the bossiest person in the family,” Justin says, but doesn’t argue against needing a meeting right now. Bryce still affects him and he can hate it, but he knows there’s no point in denying it.

Zach subtly brushes Alex’s arm with his thumb. “I’ll take a shower and change, then we can go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you guys liked this chapter. If you want to hear me ramble about writing the next one, as well as fangirl over the show and Zalex, you can find me [on Tumblr](https://chiara-writes-zalex.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Also, [Zalex Week](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16155269) is happening soon! Who's excited? *raises hand*


	8. November (Part 2)

### XXXII.

Alex’s unfinished application essay is open on the computer screen. Alex has been staring at it for the past twenty minutes without adding or changing a single word. He’s having trouble focusing on it. On anything, really.

Skipping school was definitely a good idea. Trying to work on his college applications? Not so much.

He’s not even thinking about _that_. You know, the thing he did a year ago. The thing he tried to do. The thing he’s glad he failed to do. It hasn’t taken over his thoughts today like he thought it would. He’s not really thinking about anything. Or maybe he’s thinking about too many things. One after the other, in rapid succession, forgetting one as soon as the next pops into his mind.

He turns around slowly. Zach is sitting in a corner, typing on his laptop, muttering half-words under his breath.

Alex gives up on getting any work done and gets up. He catches his own reflection in the mirror and barely recognizes himself. How is he supposed to write about what he wants and what he would like his future to look like when he’s not even sure he knows who he is?

One of Zach’s sweatshirts is lying in a crumpled mess at the foot of the bed. He pulls it on, then curls up on the bed and closes his eyes.

“You okay?” Zach asks.

“Yeah, just… tired or something.” Alex shrugs. “I can’t focus.”

He’s got his back to Zach but he hears the laptop clicking shut and Zach’s clothes shuffling as he gets up. The mattress sinks under Zach’s weight and then Alex finds himself wrapped in Zach’s arms.

“Me neither,” Zach admits. Focusing on the future rather than the past seemed like a great idea. The perfect antidote. Too bad reality disagrees. “I keep thinking about it and all I want to do is… this.”

Alex closes his eyes. He can smell honey and it makes him smile. “Did you use my mom’s shampoo again, Boyfriend?”

“The bottles look _exactly_ the same! How am I supposed to tell them apart?”

“They don’t look anything alike.”

Zach’s laugh blows through Alex’s hair and rocks him softly as it shakes Zach’s chest. “They’re both yellow. Stop complaining or I’ll stop cuddling you. And I’m taking my sweatshirt back.”

“No, you’re not,” Alex says with confidence.

Zach kisses his hair. “No, I’m not.”

They settle into a comfortable silence. Wrapped in three layers of clothes and Zach’s arms, Alex feels grounded. No longer lost. No longer floating in the foggy whiteness of his thoughts. His mind quiets down and Zach’s warmth lulls him to sleep.

He’s woken up by the landline phone. It rings three times before he hears his mother’s voice answer it. He slowly rolls onto his back and stretches lazily.

Zach is reading a book with his back propped up against a couple of pillows. He puts down the book and smiles at Alex. “Hey.”

“What time is it?”

Zach looks at his phone and frowns slightly. “Almost 11.”

“Everything okay?” Alex asks.

“Yeah,” Zach says, in a way that clearly means _Not really_. “My mom texted me a few times. My phone was on silent. I should probably text her back before she alerts the police.”

Alex sits up and slumps against Zach’s shoulder. “It’s okay if she does: my dad will tell her you’re okay.”

Zach smiles as he types a short message, but then his features harden.

“You know, I thought I’d be back home by now. I thought she would… get over it or something.” Zach looks straight ahead at the posters on Alex’s walls. “Your parents are great and I love being here with you but I miss home. I miss May and, yeah, I miss my mom. I’m so angry at her for the way she’s acting and for the things she said, but I also miss her. I feel like I _broke_ my family and I want to fix it but I don’t know how.”

Alex kisses his shoulder, then looks at him. “You didn’t break anything, Zach.”

A light knock on the door announces Carolyn’s presence before she comes into the room. “Zach, your mom just called. She was worried about you because you weren’t answering her texts.”

“I put my phone on silent. I just texted her.”

Carolyn sighs. The only rules she gave Zach were _Don’t make your mother worry_ and _Don’t close the door when you two are alone_. He just broke both of them. Still, she doesn’t think today is the right moment to make a big deal out of it. Both Zach and Alex seem quite distressed today. Alex barely had anything to eat for breakfast and he clearly just woke up from a mid-morning nap, which means he didn’t sleep well last night. Zach looks tired and worried. Sad.

She can’t blame them. She feels the same today. No point in making it worse. Today, they all get a pass.

“You know she loves you, right?”

“Yeah.” Zach looks at her. “And I’m sorry. I will check my phone more often and I’ll go talk to her again tomorrow. Just… not today.”

Carolyn nods. She gets it. “Do you want me to come with you, Zach?”

“No,” Zach says after considering it for a moment. “I mean, thank you, but I know my mom. I don’t think it would help.”

“Okay, well, if you change your mind, just let me know. In the meantime, I think we could all use a treat today. How would you feel about peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies?”

“Like, _real_ cookies? Or something filled with betrayal that I’m gonna tell my therapist about?” Alex asks, suspicious. Last time he was promised cookies, he ended up eating a sugar-free, almond flour _thing_ with fucking _raisins_. It was particularly disappointing because he mistook the raisins for chocolate chips when he saw them.

Carolyn smiles. The nap seems to have helped because Alex sounds a lot more like himself than he did at breakfast.

“Real cookies,” she promises. “But only if you help me bake them.”

“I’m not a nine-year-old _girl_ , Mom.”

“Well, if this eighteen-year-old boy wants his cookies, he’s going to help his mother bake them.”

Alex groans. “Alright, we’re coming. But we’re not saving any for Peter.”

With Veterans Day making Monday a holiday, Peter is coming home tonight for the long week-end. Carolyn was planning on making him bunk up with Alex again, but if Alex is having trouble sleeping maybe it’s not the best idea. He needs to rest. His doctor stresses it every time they see him: regular sleep and healthy food help him at least as much as meds and therapy.

“About that,” she says, ignoring Alex’s plan to eat all the cookies before his brother gets home and making a mental note to secretly save some for Peter. “I was thinking that we could let Peter have his room this time.”

The two boys look confused. Is she saying Zach can’t stay?

“Zach, you can sleep here with Alex,” she clarifies. If what it takes for Alex to sleep quietly is Zach’s presence, maybe it’s time for some unconventional parenting. “The door is going to stay open and it’s just for the weekend.”

“Y-yeah. Door open.”

“Got it, Mom. Yeah. Thank you.”

She turns around to leave. “Wash your hands and come help me with those cookies.”

Alex and Zach wait a few seconds before looking at each other.

“Did she just…?”

“Yeah. Am I still sleeping?”

Zach shakes his head slowly and smiles. He would be happy to be allowed to share a bed with Alex anytime, of course, but tonight and tomorrow night are particularly important. They are the night he texted Alex and got no reply, and the night he spent at the hospital praying to anyone who would listen not to let him die.

“Well, she clearly noticed I do wonders for your sleep,” he jokes.

Alex laughs. “Yeah, _right_. She just doesn’t want to hear Peter bitch about his bedroom for three days.”

“Does this mean we should save a few cookies for him? As a thank you?” Zach wonders.

“Hell no!”

* * *

They spend the day eating cookies and popcorn on the couch while watching old movies.

Alex naps through half of _The NeverEnding Story_. Later, he hugs his mother as she cries, because they both know she’s lying when she blames her tears on what’s happening on screen.

Zach is more cuddly than usual and Alex really doesn’t mind. _At all._

Before dinner, their friends stop by. They all hug Alex and Jess whispers in his ear, “I’m glad you’re alive.”

Justin pats Zach’s back. “Are you okay?”

Zach shrugs and says, “Yeah”, but they all know it means _No, but_ _I will be_.

“You know, you can always call. _Anytime_. For whatever reason,” Clay reminds Alex. Then he looks at the other three. “I mean, you all can. Today, next week, next year…”

“You, too. Always,” Justin says.

Jess touches Clay’s arm. “This calls for a group hug,” she says, before wrapping her arms around Clay and Alex. Zach and Justin don’t hesitate to join in. They all know they are lucky: it could easily have been a very different type of anniversary today.

“I love you guys,” Alex whispers, holding them tight.

* * *

A year ago, late at night, Peter was playing videogames with a friend when he got a call. _The_ call. The one telling him he needed to come back to Crestmont right away. No, not tomorrow morning, _right now_.

They wouldn’t tell him _why_ , of course, not until he got to the hospital. All he knew as he speeded down the highway was that it was about Alex and that he needed to hurry or he might not even get to say goodbye.

Thinking back to that night, to how broken their parents looked, to how little hope the doctors gave them, Peter can’t help but feel that it’s nothing short of a miracle that Alex is even here today. It’s easy, sometimes, to focus on what he still cannot do, on what he might never be able to do again. But this is far, far more than even the best outcome they dared to hope for a year ago.

Peter is playing videogames tonight, exactly like a year ago, but this time he’s playing with Alex. Well, Alex and Zach. The two of them keep passing the controller back and forth between them.

“How do you suck so fucking much after all this time?” Alex asks Zach, taking the controller from him.

“It’s not only about speed, Alex! Are you hitting the obstacles on purpose, or do you not even fucking _notice_ them?” Zach complains.

Alex hits a fence at full speed without blinking. “Who cares if I do some damage?”

“Tell me again how you don’t get why you can’t drive my car.”

“Totally different thing.”

Peter only half-listens to their banter. He wouldn’t dare openly picking a side anyway: it could only end with the two of them joining forces against him.

“How are you so good at this?” Alex asks him after a while.

Peter shrugs. “I practice a lot.”

“Do Mom and Dad know that you play videogames instead of studying?”

“I do not. Fuck you!”

“Ew, Pete, that’s incest,” Alex deadpans, making Zach chuckle.

Peter lets out a long-suffering sigh. “You two found each other.”

“Yeah, we did,” Zach says, taking the controller from Alex. To Peter’s surprise, Alex doesn’t complain.

If Peter did it, Alex would scream bloody murder. But if Zach does it, it’s okay. His little brother is _in love_. Like, madly in love. Like, unable-to-think-straight in love. He’s _so_ screwed. In the very best way, of course.

And to think that Alex very nearly died before he could fall in love this hard. Peter would like to tell him that. He’d like to shake him and raise his voice and say, “You almost missed all this!”

But it’s not the right time, or maybe they just don’t have that kind of relationship. He keeps his hands on the controller and his mouth shut. He can always tell Alex later. Or tomorrow.

He almost believes it.

* * *

It’s late, past 1am, and Bill is tired but he can’t fall asleep. There’s something bugging him, a thought he can’t dismiss, and it’s keeping him up.

He knows he put his gun in the safe. He _knows_. He always does. He remembers doing it tonight. He changed the combination, too, like he’s been doing every week for the past year. He went back to double check it.

His gun is securely locked away in the safe in his office.

He’s _positive_.

And yet as soon as he got into bed and turned off the light, doubt started poking around in his head and has been keeping him awake. What if he only thinks he did it? When you do something every day, it’s easy to get confused. What if he didn’t lock the safe properly after opening it to double-check? Did he leave the new combination lying around on his desk? Did he put his wallet inside the safe and left the gun in his jacket?

Of course not. He was careful.

But what if he did?

He sighs, then gets up. The only way he’s getting any sleep tonight is if he goes downstairs and checks it again, so that’s exactly what he does. He walks past his sons’ bedrooms. He sees the faint blue light of the TV coming from under Peter’s closed door. Alex’s door is open. His younger son’s room is dark but a whispered conversation coming from inside lets Bill know that Alex and Zach aren’t sleeping either.

“You literally only have _one_ thing on your mind.”

“I do not!”

“When are you ever not thinking about food, Zach?”

“When we’re together.”

“We’re together now and you just asked me if I was up for a midnight snack.”

“I simply suggested that eating something might help us sleep.”

“ _How_?”

“I don’t know, I just… Alex, can you stop moving for a fucking minute?”

“Shh!”

“I shush if you stop moving.”

“I’m trying to get comfortable.”

“Can you also try to keep your elbows away from my ribs?”

Muffled laughs. More shushing. Blankets shuffling.

Bill turns on the light in the hallway. The two boys freeze, then Zach swiftly puts some distance between them. It took some convincing on his wife’s part to get him on board with the sleeping arrangements, but now he can see why she insisted.

Alex lifts his head up to look at him. “Hey, Dad. Sorry, we’ll keep it down.”

“Can’t sleep?”

“It’s still early. We’re not really tired yet,” Alex says with a shrug.

“I’m going to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Do you need anything?”

Alex shakes his head. “No, thank you. We’re good.”

Bill touches the light switch with his fingers. Before turning off the light and leaving, he adds, “I love you, Alex.”

Alex looks at him. “I love you, too, Dad.”

“Try to get some sleep, alright? Both of you.”

“Yeah. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, sir.”

Bill turns off the light. As he makes his way to the staircase in the dark, he hears more whispers, more laughter. He goes downstairs and checks that his gun is inside the safe, that the safe is locked and that the combination is nowhere in sight. But, deep down, he knows that he doesn’t really need to do it. Alex is fine. Alex is more than fine. He might even be happy. And he’s _safe_ , which is maybe even more important, especially tonight.

A year ago he was surrounded by doctors, nurses and beeping machines. Tonight, he sleeps at home with his family. Tonight, he laughs in bed with someone who loves him.

* * *

It’s raining on Saturday morning. Zach can hear the raindrops crash against the window when he wakes up, barely past dawn. He decides to skip his morning run today in favor of cuddling in bed. He could blame the rain, but, really, it’s all because of Alex. He snuggles closer to his boyfriend, who’s buried inside a nice, linen cocoon after stealing all the covers.

“You’re hogging the blankets,” he whispers in Alex’s ear, before tugging at the comforter.

Alex doesn’t wake up but at least he lets Zach get some of the blankets back.

Zach wraps his left arm around Alex’s waist and kisses his hair. He closes his eyes and lets the rain and Alex’s heartbeat lull him back to sleep.

He wakes up again a couple of hours later, with Alex nestled in his arms and nuzzling in the crook of his neck. Without opening his eyes, he runs a hand up and down Alex’s back, feeling his skinny body under the smooth fabric of his PJs.

Alex hums softly. His right hand is resting over Zach’s heart, his fingers curl and uncurl slowly. He yawns, then rolls onto his back and wipes the sleep from his eyes with the heel of his hands.

“Morning,” Zach says, voice hoarse from sleep. He stretches, arms over his head, back arching, tensing his muscles before collapsing into a limp pile by Alex’s side.

Alex mumbles something that could just as easily be “Good morning” or “I hate mornings.”

“Breakfast?” asks Zach, sitting up.

Alex yawns again, then nods. He pushes himself into a sitting position and takes his meds with a sip of water from the glass Zach hands to him.

“I wanna take you somewhere later,” Zach says.

“Where?”

“Just… away from here.”

Alex nods again. “Yeah. Sounds good.”

It really does. After spending a full day at home, protected from the world, Alex is longing for fresh air and open spaces. For the inebriating feeling of freedom. For carefree car drives and the luxury of letting the world fill your head and distract you from everything going on inside it.

* * *

The cloudy sky reflects into Alex’s eyes, making them look gray-blue and deep. His bright-colored hair stands out in the muted tones surrounding them. They’re walking on the boardwalk with the ocean to their left and Alex’s hand feels warm in Zach’s cold one.

“There’s something I need to tell you and maybe today is the wrong day to do it or maybe it’s the perfect day, I don’t know,” Zach says. “I kind of told you before, but you were in a coma back then so you don’t remember.”

Alex looks at him and squeezes his hand, both to comfort him and to encourage him to go on.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see how much you were suffering. I’m sorry you couldn’t talk to me about it. I should have…” Alex makes to interrupt him but Zach stops him: “No, let me say this. I should have seen it. It was all everyone would talk about after Hannah… and I should have seen it. You know what the first thing on my mind was, after your dad told me? That night, in the pool. When you said you fell in because you were drunk. But you weren’t that drunk, right? Then, as I was driving to the hospital, I thought of the car ride, when you wouldn’t slow down. And when I saw you…”

Zach presses his lips together, then looks at Alex. He wants to focus on how he looks today: strong, healthy, beautiful. Not on how painfully broken and lifeless he looked a year ago in that hospital bed.

“When I saw you, I remembered you saying you didn’t have any plans for the future. And as I sat with you, I kept remembering more things you said. About not caring about anything. About dying. About killing yourself. I was there, Alex, I was there to hear them. I was there and I missed it and I am _so_ sorry.”

Alex stops walking and looks at him. “Zach, it wasn’t your fault. We were fucked up, all of us.”

His memories of those weeks are still hazy. He still doesn’t remember all of it and some of the memories he does have feel like they belong to someone else, like it couldn’t possibly have been his life.

“We all made mistakes and we all have regrets. But here’s what I learned: we get a pass,” he tells Zach. “We got a second chance and we’re doing pretty well with it, I think.”

“Yeah, we are,” Zach agrees.

It will probably take them their whole lives to forgive themselves for what they did and didn’t do during their sophomore and junior years, but this week they made a step forward and that’s something.

Zach moves to stand in front of Alex and bends down for a kiss. “I love you,” he whispers, before pressing his chapped lips against Alex’s.

 

 

### XXXIII.

Jess’s parents are in D.C. for the weekend. She had to reassure them about a million times that she would be okay before they decided to go. Then, early on Saturday morning, when they were about to leave, her mother woke her up to ask, once again, if she didn’t want her to stay. Jess told her to go and promised she was ready. She wasn’t lying, either.

She spent Saturday with Chloe: they were both babysitting their younger siblings, so they drove to the beach and watched the three little kids play by the edge of the water while they did their homework. That night, Chloe and Amelia slept over. Jess said she was ready; she never said she was ready to do it alone.

On Sunday morning, Jess drives her brothers to their grandparents and Chloe takes her little sister home. By mid-morning, they are both back at Jess’s house to watch _Captain America: Civil War_ while they wait for the boys to come over.

Clay and Justin are the first to arrive, at 9.54am.

“I told him that by ‘10’ you meant ‘around 11’ but he wouldn’t believe me,” Justin says.

“It doesn’t make any sense,” Clay complains. “Why can’t you say 11 if you mean 11?”

“Because then people would show up at midday,” Jess explains.

“Yeah, it still doesn’t make any sense.”

Jessica and Justin look at each other and smile.

They watch the end of the movie together. Zach and Alex ring the bell just as the credits start rolling. When she gets up to open the door, Jess hears Clay tell Chloe, “Don’t turn it off! There’s two more scenes!”

“Pay up, Zachy. You lost the bet,” she says as soon as she opens the door and finds Zach and Alex standing there.

“What time did they show up?” Zach asks with a groan.

“Before 10.” Jess smiles.

Alex looks at him and shakes his head. “Did you really think _Clay_ would be late?”

Zach puts a 5$ bill in Jess’s outstretched hand. “Technically, I just needed him not to be _early_. And I was counting on Justin.”

Alex and Jess share a look. “Your boyfriend’s delusional,” she whispers as Alex walks by her to get inside.

“I’m aware of it.”

* * *

Jess sits cross-legged on the couch holding a cup of tea in her hands and looking at Alex. There’s a Monopoly game going on in the kitchen and she can hear their friends joke and laugh. She and Alex have been eliminated already, so they moved to the living room to spend some time together.

“The other night I told my dad I’m thinking about taking a gap year,” she says.

“How did he take it?” Alex asks sympathetically. He knows her father well enough to guess how it went.

Jess sighs. “Not too well. He said I can go to college and he will support whatever major I pick, or I can join the army. Those are my options.”

“Would he really let you join the army?” Alex looks at her as he takes a sip of his tea.

“Of course not,” Jess says. “And I thought about doing it just to prove a point, but it would be a really stupid thing to do. And I _want_ to go to college. I just don’t know what I want to be. I’m not even sure I know who I am.”

Alex takes her hand. “You’re my best friend and you are kind, smart and great at helping people.”

She looks down and shakes her head. “I’m really not.”

He knows what she’s thinking without her having to say so. It’s still there, for all of them, and maybe it always will be: how they failed Hannah.

“You helped me; you helped Chloe; you’re helping Justin,” he reminds her. “You know, it doesn’t matter what you major in: you’re going to be incredible and you’re going to make a difference in the world.”

Jess smiles at him. “Who are you and where’s Alex? All this optimism is scaring me.”

“I’m trying something new,” Alex says. “What you said, about not knowing who you are? I don’t know who I am either.”

“Is that why you keep changing your hair?”

Alex shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Well, you, Alexander Dean Standall, are my best friend. You are honest, brave and strong. And your hair is awesome. Always.” Jessica squeezes his hand.

“Sometimes I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself,” Alex admits. “Do you ever feel like that?”

“All the time.”

He sighs and drinks some more tea. “We’ll figure it out, right? Eventually?”

“Totally,” Jess says, and she sounds confident, too.

There’s a roar of laughter coming from the kitchen. Jess and Alex look at each other and don’t need to say anything: they go back to their friends.

“What did we miss?” Alex asks, letting Zach pull him onto his lap.

“Clay spent a few nights at my five-star hotels and went bankrupt,” Justin says proudly. Clay has moved his chair next to Justin’s and is arranging his brother’s money and cards into neat piles. Justin goes on: “Now he’s my unpaid intern. Oh, and you also missed Zach going to prison.”

“Let’s keep playing in teams. Come sit with me, Jess,” Chloe says.

Jess takes a seat next to Chloe and starts talking strategy with her, while Clay and Justin try to find a cool team name.

Zach looks at Alex. “Are you okay?” he whispers. Alex can’t really blame him for checking in on him a bit more often than usual this weekend.

“I’m good. I’m having fun,” he says. He gives Zach a quick kiss, then looks at the board. “Let’s win this.”

* * *

If fate exists, it must have a twisted sense of humor.

They turn on the TV and there it is: a re-run of _Fight Club_. Of course, because fate is a heartless bastard, it’s not just any scene. It’s _that_ scene. The one where he puts the gun into his mouth and pulls the trigger.

They were all talking, arguing over which Netflix movie they should watch. They all stop mid-sentence.

Clay is the first to react: he grabs the remote and turns off the TV. Not that it’s doing any harm now.

“Shit,” Justin whispers.

They all look at Alex, then at each other. Except for Zach: his eyes stay trained on Alex. He’s holding his breath.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Alex blurts out, before getting up. All the air has been sucked out of the room. He leans onto his cane and makes his way out of the front door, hardly aware of Zach’s hand on his back.

He gets outside. The air is cold. A shock to the system. Exactly what he needs.

He takes a few slow breaths. He holds tight onto Zach’s arm and it’s not because of his leg. He closes his eyes for a few seconds. When Zach asks him if he needs his meds, he shakes his head no. More deep breaths.

It’s not like he’s never seen _Fight Club_ before. It’s a brilliant movie. And it’s not even really a suicide scene: any other week, and it probably wouldn’t have triggered anything other than appreciation for Chuck Palahniuk’s genius.

He feels Zach’s arm around his waist and lets his boyfriend help him sit down on the front steps. He puts his head between his knees and focuses on his breathing and on Zach’s warm hand on his back until he starts feeling better.

“I flashed back to that night,” he says after a few minutes. His voice is still weak. “I remembered tidying up my room, writing the note, getting the gun from my dad’s office, going back upstairs and sitting down on the bathroom floor.”

Zach looks at him, worried. “Fuck, Alex. Are you okay?”

“Okay might be a slight overstatement at the moment, but I’m getting there,” Alex says.

“Do you want to go home?” Zach asks gently.

Alex sits up and looks at him. He looks calmer. “No. I just a need a few more minutes, then we can go back inside and have fun with our friends.”

* * *

Alex is feeling better by the time they go back inside but he’s still listless. He reassures his friends that he’s fine, then curls up on the couch with his head on Zach’s lap and lets Zach’s cuddles help him relax while he quietly listens to his friends’ silly conversations. He knows they’re keeping it light on purpose and he’s grateful for that.

“No, Justin, I don’t think you understand. You’ve met Grandma Rose and you’ve met Grandma Edith, but you’ve never seen them _together_ ,” Clay says. The whole family is getting together for Thanksgiving and Justin needs to understand the stakes. “They _hate_ each other. They are polite about it, but never miss a chance to take a jab at each other. If you’re not careful, you could start World War III.”

“I really think I can handle them. You worry too much: they both think I’m adorable,” Justin says.

“Get back to me after they hold you hostage until you confess whose pie you liked better,” Clay counters.

Alex chuckles and feels some of the tension leave his body. “They did that?” he asks, speaking for the first time in a while. He skipped the big Pizza Toppings debate and just listened while his friends talked about plans after graduation. Now he’s breathing easily against and he finally feels like joining the conversation.

“Yes, they did that.”

“It’ll be okay, Clay. You’ve got me this year.” Justin smiles with confidence. “We’ll team up. You tell Grandma Edith she’s your favorite and I tell Grandma Rose the same. They’ll both be happy, and we’ll get showered with gifts and shit. Divide and conquer.”

Clay considers it. “You know, it might actually work.”

“Of course it will work. It’s a fucking great plan!” Justin smiles proudly.

For a moment, Zach can’t help but wonder if things will be any better with his mother by Thanksgiving, but he quickly pushes the thought aside.

“While we’re on the subject of great plans, we need one for New Year’s Eve,” Clay says. “It would be nice to get out of Crestmont.”

Justin looks at Zach. “Do you think your uncle…?”

Zach sighs. “No, sorry. On New Year’s, my cousin always throws a party for her friends at the cabin.”

“I’ll ask my dad. Maybe he knows someone,” Jess says. Her father can usually find great places for next to nothing thanks to his connections.

“If we don’t find anything better, we can stay at my house. My parents managed to get Christmas off, so they’ll be working on New Year’s,” Alex says.

They are interrupted by the pizza delivery, but they know they all feel the same way even if they didn’t say it: so long as they’re spending it together, they’re going to have fun.

 

 

### XXXIV.

The coach from Stanford shakes everyone’s hand and promises to talk to Zach soon before making his way to the parking lot with his assistant coach by his side.

Coach Patrick pats Zach’s back. “You did good. You really impressed them tonight,” he says.

“You played a great game,” Bill agrees. “I was watching them during the game: they loved you.”

“Thank you, I hope so,” Zach says.

It feels unreal. While he was playing, he managed to focus on the game alone and didn’t let his nerves get the best of him. He played one of his best games this season. Then, after the game, everything happened so fast. He can’t even remember what they talked about. He answered their questions but let Mr. Standall and coach Patrick do most of the talking. His mother was right there by his side, beaming with pride, and showing everyone a picture of a five-year-old Zach wearing a Stanford t-shirt.

Coach Patrick pats his back again, then leaves them alone.

“Go get changed, I’ll find Alex,” Bill says. “We’ll go out and celebrate. Karen, you should come.”

Zach looks at his mother expectantly. Asking her to come to dinner with his boyfriend and his family is a lot, but he still hopes she says yes.

“I am really proud of you, Zach. You did good. I have other commitments tonight, but we can celebrate tomorrow. As a family,” she says.

_As a family_.

Zach tries to let the words slide past him but he still feels their sharp touch.

“Sure. See you tomorrow, then,” he says, unwilling to make a scene in front of everyone. He turns around and heads to the locker room for a shower.

Bill sighs. “Karen, I don’t mean to overstep, but I’ve been where you are and I get how you feel. I get how hard it is. I wanted to do what you’re doing. But, more than that, I didn’t want to lose my son.”

For a moment, she seems touched by the words, but she quickly composes herself. “My son is not like that,” she says.

Bill can’t help but wonder if it’s about Zach dating a guy, or Zach dating Alex. Does she think Alex is not good enough for Zach? It makes him angry and he suddenly feels very protective of his son. No, not just of his son: of Alex’s feelings for Zach and of their relationship. He takes a step closer to her and lowers his voice so nobody else hears him. “Your son is in love with my son and there is nothing you or anyone can do about that,” he says quietly before walking away.

* * *

It takes Karen three more days but then, early on Saturday morning, she rings the Standalls’ door bell. She stands there in her smart clothes and flawless make-up, looking ready for a business meeting, until the door opens. Carolyn looks surprised to see her but warmly invites her in.

“The boys are having breakfast,” Carolyn says, leading Karen to the kitchen.

Zach is sitting at the table with an empty plate in front of him. He’s stirring his coffee.

“Are you sure you don’t want some coffee with your sugar?” Alex teases him.

“Very funny, Alex. Eat your pancakes; we’re gonna be late. Clay is…” Zach stops talking when he sees him mother. His heart skips a beat. “Mom. Did something happen? Is May okay?”

Karen doesn’t miss the panic in his voice. (Did her son start _expecting_ bad news when his father died, or was it later, with the trial?) She doesn’t miss Alex putting his hand on Zach’s back either. “Everything is fine,” she says, keeping her voice neutral. “Good morning, Zach. Hello, Alex.”

“Please take a seat. Let me get you a cup of coffee. I just made a pot,” Carolyn says.

“Oh, no. Thank you, but I’m not staying long.” Karen inhales, looks at the two boys, exhales. It’s why she’s here so she might as well say it and get it over it. “I wanted to ask Zach to come to Thanksgiving dinner. It would mean a lot to your sister to have you there. And to me,” she adds. Then she looks at Alex. She takes in his turquoise hair, his septum ring, the bottle of pills next to his glass on the table, his hand still on her son’s back. “Alex, Zach told me your parents will be working on Thanksgiving. You are welcome to join us if you’d like.”

At first, Zach thinks he can’t possibly have heard her right. He looks at Alex, who gives him a small smile and a slight nod. “We’ll be there. Thank you, Mom,” he says.

“Very well. I will see you on Thursday, then. Be there by two,” she says. She then politely declines another offer from Mrs. Standall to have some coffee and talk, and leaves.

Zach looks at Alex again. He saw how uncomfortable his mother was, how hard it was for her to even be here. He knows it’s not over: there will be more obstacles to overcome. However, this is still a giant step forward. She’s finally opening a conversation instead of shutting it down. She’s trying.

“I’m so happy for you, Zach. This is good,” Alex says.

“Yeah, it’s very good. I wasn’t expecting it at this point,” Zach admits.

He doesn’t know what made his mother change her mind but he’s grateful. He was already planning on spending Thanksgiving at home because he wasn’t going to leave May alone, not on a holiday. One empty place at the table is already too much. But now he gets to be with Alex, too. More importantly: his mother has just acknowledged Alex as part of his life if not their family.

“I think I should go back home. Tonight, I mean,” he says. It almost sounds like a question, but as soon as he starts thinking about it, he realizes it’s what he needs to do. What he wants to do. His mother took a step in the right direction, now it’s his turn.

Alex nods. “You should, yes. Although… I’m gonna miss you,” he says.

“You’ll still see me all the time. But yeah, me, too.”

He feels lighter, the fear of losing his family no longer weighting on his shoulders. For the first time in weeks, he believes things might actually turn out okay.

 

 

### XXXV.

The kitchen is warm, chaotic, and full of flavors. Matt is in charge of the turkey and cranberry sauce. Lainie is juggling the mashed potatoes, creamed spinach, and pumpkin pie.

Justin, still in his PJs, leans against the doorframe and takes it all in. Up until now, he thought it only happened in movies. Whenever his mother was clean enough, she would make an effort on Thanksgiving and they would have turkey sandwiches and microwaved potato mash. When she wasn’t, he would spend the day in Bryce’s pool house playing videogames until it was time to have dinner. Mrs. Walker, of course, didn’t cook; Marisa did, and the kitchen always looked spotless – sterile – by the time dinner was served.

This is something else entirely. He smiles.

“Good morning,” he says, getting himself a cup of coffee.

“Good morning, Justin. There’s chocolate muffins over there somewhere.” Lainie points at the counter.

Justin spots them immediately and grabs one. The kitchen table is Lainie’s territory today but he doesn’t want to have breakfast in the living room. He doesn’t want to miss this. He leans back against the counter and watches them. Matt is worried about his cranberry sauce not thickening; Lainie double checks the oven temperature, then goes back to peeling potatoes.

Clay comes downstairs just as Lainie is taking her pumpkin pie out of the oven. It smells amazing.

“No apple pie?” Clay asks. “It’s my favorite.”

“There’s pumpkin pie this year. And your grandmas are each bringing a pecan pie,” Lainie says. She wonders, not for the first time, why her mother and mother-in-law insist on turning Thanksgiving into a baking contest.

Clay pours some coffee into his mug, then gives Justin a look. His ‘Help me out’ look. His ‘It’s us brothers against them’ look. He’s perfected it over the past few months. His mother has had eighteen years to learn how to say no to him, but Justin… She doesn’t know how to say no to Justin yet. Clay knows that.

Justin eats the last of his muffin and licks the crumbs away from his fingers. “Apple pie’s my favorite, too,” he says.

“I guess we can make one more pie,” Lainie sighs.

“We’ll help,” Justin offers.

“By getting out of your way, he means,” Clay corrects.

“You can start by going to the supermarket to buy apples and butter,” Lainie says, giving in. She’s committed to making this the most special Thanksgiving dinner Justin has ever had.

“We’ll get ice cream, too.” Clay gulps down his coffee. “Let’s go, Justin.”

Justin follows Clay out of the room taking another chocolate muffin with him.

* * *

They’re on the couch watching the game. Well, Zach is watching the game. May is reading a book, and Alex, after pretending to be interested in football for about ten minutes, is now buried into Zach’s arms and is drifting in and out of sleep.

Taking advantage of the fact that his mother is in the kitchen, Zach is lying on the couch with Alex right next to him. May is sitting comfortably on the other end of the couch with her legs resting on top of the boys’. From time to time, she glances at the reflection in the glass cabinet. It’s a trick Zach taught her years ago: if you’re sitting in just the right spot, you can see the kitchen from there. So, when Karen is done in the kitchen and joins them in the living room, they are all sitting properly, like respectable people as she would say.

“How’s the game going?” she asks.

“A bit boring,” Zach admits.

“That’s an understatement,” Alex says under his breath before yawning.

May looks up from her book. “We could play Scrabble.”

It’s a family tradition, or at least it used to be. Last year, they skipped it: it would have hurt too much. But this year it feels like a good way to remember their father.

“I’m in,” Zach says. He looks at Alex, who nods, then at his mother. “Mom?”

She hesitates, but it’s only for a second. “Yes, let’s play Scrabble.”

* * *

It was the only thing Justin could think of when Matt asked. The truth was that no, he didn’t have any family traditions. Not any he’d like to keep anyway. Watching his mother pass out on the couch and microwave whatever he could find in the fridge is not what he’d call a nice Thanksgiving tradition. Then, of course, there were the good years, when Bryce wasn’t on the other side of the world and would invite him to have dinner with his family. They’d watch the game with Mr. Walker and then play outside. Or, once they were older, get drunk in the pool house. It was nice, back then, but those memories are tainted now.

What popped into his head when Matt asked him if there were any Thanksgiving traditions he liked, was a memory from ten years ago. His mother’s boyfriend was a nice guy for a change. He didn’t last long, but he was around for Thanksgiving and took Justin to play football with him and some friends of his. It’s the happiest Justin remembers ever being around the holidays.

And, really, he just said it because he’s trying to be more open. To share more. He didn’t expect the Jensens to actually drive to the park to play football as soon as the rest of the family left. They keep surprising him. They never stop reminding him they care about him. They always go the extra mile and Justin’s not used to anyone even taking one single step for him.

He and Clay are playing against Matt and Lainie. Although _playing_ might be a generous term. But they’re having fun and that’s what counts. Lainie is competitive and screams order after order to her husband. Matt and Clay keep looking at each other with resigned expressions on their faces. Justin laughs and tells Clay they’d better not let the parents win.

Lainie stops an elderly couple and asks them to take a picture because they only have a few of the four of them together. Justin – one arm slung loosely around Clay’s shoulders – smiles brightly as they take the picture.

And then he feels it.

He isn’t sure at first, but after a couple of minutes he cannot ignore it anymore.

Someone’s watching him. Or them.

He looks around as fear tightens his chest. His hands are sweating, his heart racing.

He can’t see Seth but he knows it’s him. Who else could it be?

“Aren’t you guys cold?” he asks, trying to sound casual. “Maybe we should go home.”

“What’s wrong, Justin?” Lainie asks.

Clay gets closer to him and looks around as well. “Is it him? Did you see him?”

“No,” Justin says. “It’s just a feeling. I’m probably wrong. I’m sure I’m getting worked up over nothing.”

“Let’s go back to the car,” Matt decides.

“Shouldn’t we call the police?” Clay says. He stays close to Justin as they walk towards the parking lot. He looks around, trying to spot Seth.

As Justin gets into the car, he wonders if he’s overreacting. He didn’t see Seth. It was just a feeling. Did he actually feel someone watching him or did he have an anxiety attack?

Lainie is calling Mr. Standall: it feels a bit too much to call 9-1-1 without having even _seen_ anything, but calling a friend at the police station is okay. And Bill is a parent, too, so he gets it.

“He’s going to check out the area, see if he can find him,” she tells them as Matt drives them home. She turns around to look at Justin in the backseat. “Justin, honey, are you okay?”

Justin is picking at his fingernails. He catches himself and stops. He quickly buries his hands in his pockets. “I’m okay. I just didn’t mean to cause so much trouble.”

“You didn’t,” Clay reassures him. “And I, for one, am glad we’re going home. Mom, can we have hot chocolate?”

“Of course.”

* * *

Three hours, five games and a long discussion on whether or not proper nouns should be allowed later, it’s a smiling Karen who gets up to answer the door. Bill is standing there and she quickly composes herself.

“Hello, Karen. I’m here to pick up Alex. Thank you again for having him,” he says.

“It was no trouble. Especially after Zach spent all that time at your house.” Karen invites Bill to come in and closes the door behind him. “I want to thank you again for that. I hope Zach behaved properly.”

Bill nods. “He did. He’s a good kid.”

“Yes, he is,” she says.

They both turn to look at their sons join them in the hall. They look relaxed.

“We’re having our own Thanksgiving dinner on Saturday,” Bill says. “Zach, why don’t you join us? Karen, you and May are welcome to come, too.”

He sees Alex smile. Sometimes, being a good parent is not that hard.

“My sister and her family will be visiting, but thank you for the invite,” Karen says politely.

Zach, instead, accepts gratefully. His mother seems ready to protest, maybe to remind him that he should spend time with his family, too, but then she lets it go. Bill is starting to believe that what she doesn’t say is often more meaningful than what she does say.

Zach gets Alex’s jacket and helps him put it on. Alex doesn’t need the help, but it’s a good excuse for sneaking in a quick neck rub and a light arm stroking. He’d like to kiss Alex, too, but he doesn’t dare. Not in front of his mother.

“I’ll call you before bed,” he whispers as he gives Alex a hug.

“Talk to you later, Boyfriend.”

Bill has to admit his son has more guts than he does. He wouldn’t have dared call Zach Alex’s boyfriend in Karen Dempsey’s house. That woman scares him.

“Let’s go, buddy,” he says.

* * *

Justin feels better as soon as they get home. It’s safe here. He feels protected. The hot chocolate helps, too. Jess might have a point. Still, it takes him a while to get back the warmth he’s felt all day. Seth hurt him in so many ways; it’s hard to push away the memories once they creep back into his mind.

He rubs his wrist. It doesn’t actually hurt, but it’s the most recent reminder of how dangerous Seth is.

Lainie squeezes his shoulders. “Are you sure you’re okay, honey?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He smiles to her.

“You know what you need?” Clay asks. “Apple pie.”

He takes what’s left of it out of the fridge and warms it up in the microwave, then places it on the kitchen table and gets four forks. Matt suggests using plates, but they all ignore him, even Lainie. They all sit close together and eat the pie straight from the pan.

“You were right: apple pie helped,” Justin says when there’s only a few crumbs left. What he means is, _You helped_.

 

 

### XXXVI.

Six months.

They’ve been together for six months.

“Six months is a long time.”

Zach eats a couple of fries. “Are you getting bored with me?”

“Yes, I’m breaking up with you on our anniversary,” Alex says without missing a beat. He carefully dips an onion ring in ketchup.

“Fuck you.” Zach laughs.

“Maybe later.” Alex gives him a sideways glance and a smile that makes more promises than his words, then takes a bite of his onion ring.

They were supposed to go out of town to celebrate their anniversary. Nothing special, just a day away from Crestmont. But as they were getting ready to leave, Alex admitted he wasn’t feeling up for it, and the weather promised nothing but cold and rain anyway. So, they decided to stay in Crestmont instead: they watched a few movies before ending up at Rosie’s Diner for burgers.

“Do you want dessert? I want dessert.” Zach takes a look at the menu. The chocolate brownie looks delicious but so does the cheesecake. He’s about to ask Alex if he wants to share when the door opens and four guys in Liberty High varsity jackets come in: Monty and his friends.

Alex was leaning against Zach’s shoulder, checking out the menu. He pulls back and removes his hand from Zach’s back.

“Hot date, Dempsey?” Monty mocks as he walks by them.

“Jealous, Monty?” Alex snaps back.

The four jocks pick a booth in the back, not too far from Alex and Zach. They don’t seem in the mood for a fight and would probably leave them alone, but it doesn’t matter: the place is theirs now.

“Wanna go somewhere else?” Zach asks, putting down the menu.

No, Alex does not want to go somewhere else. Not because he’s particularly fond of Rosie’s Diner, but because it means they win once again. Leaving means letting those jerks scare them away. They didn’t even have to do much: all it takes is their presence. So, no, Alex doesn’t _want_ to leave. But what other choice do they have?

“Yeah, let’s go find an asshole-free zone.” He smiles at Zach. “One that has brownies.”

* * *

Justin pulls on his t-shirt then sits down on one of the benches in the locker room and looks at Zach, who’s standing a few feet away, talking on the phone. He sounds calm and confident. He’s always been comfortable with talking with adults.

“What did he say?” Justin asks as soon as the phone call is over.

“He told me they want to make it happen and I said yes.”

Zach looks at his phone. His heart is still racing. Stanford’s interest is not news, and he made the decision to go a few days ago; but only now does it start feeling _real_. It’s exciting and scary. He hasn’t signed anything yet so he can still change his mind, but things have been put in motion. He has to send in his application sooner rather than later, without waiting for the January 2 deadline, as the coach reminded him. He has to call the coach and let him know once he applied so the admissions committee can be alerted that he’s being recruited for the basketball team. This, they told him, should make up for the fact that his grades and SAT scores are not exceptional. It won’t be too long before he gets an unofficial call letting him know whether or not he’s been accepted.

“Congrats, dude. You fucking deserve it.” Justin smiles.

“Hold off the congratulations until I get it and sign something. It could still all fall apart,” Zach reminds him. He’s trying to be cautious. The admissions committee could still reject his application. The coach could still change his mind.

“According to Lainie, we need to celebrate every win,” Justin says. “I got cake for _applying_ to Humboldt last week.”

Seeing how well Justin is doing this year, Zach can’t help but think that all his friend needed was a break and some support. He’s still making up for the months of school he missed last year, but he’s working hard and if he keeps it up he will have enough credits to graduate. Barely. But hey, it’s not like he ever aspired to be valedictorian.

“Okay, I’m in,” Zach says. “Let’s go to Monet’s and celebrate with cake. And then I’ll go home and work on my application.”

* * *

Jessica and Chloe hold up their mugs and smile at the camera as Chloe snaps a selfie. She posts it on Instagram with the caption “Girl’s night out: hot chocolate season edition.” Before she closes the app, she can’t help but scroll down to check the latest updates and that’s when she sees it.

“Oh no,” she says.

“What is it?”

Chloe gives Jessica her phone. On the screen, reposted by one of the cheerleaders from her boyfriend, basketball player Willem Barclay, there’s a picture of Zach and Alex.

They’re kissing.

* * *

They should have been more careful. They got too comfortable and slipped up. They should have known better than to kiss in public, even if it looked like no one was around to see them. They made one stupid mistake and now everybody knows. Six months of hiding, of driving out of town just to be able to walk hand in hand, of being careful about the way they even looked at each other at school. Six months of missed kisses and whispered _I love you_ ’s. All for nothing.

Their secret is out.

Alex is tapping his fingers on the table, which is not helping with Zach’s own restlessness. Zach’s phone keeps buzzing with new messages that he refuses to check; Alex turned his off a while ago.

“It was my fault. I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Zach says.

Alex sighs. “Yeah, because you did that against my will. C’mon, Zach. I kissed you as well. There are probably pictures of that, too.”

“I should have at least looked around first. I should have seen him.”

“Fine, it’s your fault,” Alex snaps back. “You’re the only one of us with eyes and it’s your fault for not seeing that jerk. Do you feel better now? I do: it magically solves all of our problems!”

Zach knows that Alex is right. It’s both of their fault for not being more careful. And, at the same time, it’s not their fault at all: it’s Willem’s. He shouldn’t have taken and posted that picture. Still, at least by taking responsibility Zach feels in control. It’s better than feeling like it’s all happening _to_ them, like it’s completely outside of their control and there’s nothing they can do about it.

“What do we do about it then?” he asks quietly, using calm against Alex's rage.

Alex thinks about it. The picture is blurry: taken from a distance, in the dark. Everyone can tell one of the boys is Alex because of his distinctive blue hair, but the tall boy with dark hair could easily be someone other than Zach.

“We can still deny it,” he says. Levelheaded, no longer a victim of his emotions. Taking charge helps. “Everybody knows it’s me, but we could say it’s not you. I don’t care if people know I’m gay. I don’t have scholarships.”

“It’s me, Alex. Nobody would believe it’s not me.” Zach gets up and starts pacing up and down the room.

“We’ll say I kissed you and you turned me down,” Alex suggests.

Zach shakes his head. It could work, although it wouldn’t completely kill the rumor. That’s not the point. “No. I’m not letting you face it alone. And I don’t want people to think you’re with someone else, or that you like me and I don’t like you back.”

“Who cares what they think? It’s none of their fucking business anyway.”

Alex hates Willem so much right now: he took away their privacy, their choice, their coming out. He might have even taken away Zach’s chances at a scholarship. They should have been more careful, but he should have been less of a dick. He didn’t have the right to post that picture and turn their lives upside down like this. What if they hadn’t told their families yet? Did he even stop to consider how much damage he could have done?

Zach sits back down next to Alex and takes his hand to stop the nervous tapping. “Alex, I’m not denying that I’m with you. I felt bad enough asking you to keep it a secret but I told myself it wasn’t anybody’s business but ours. But there’s a difference between hiding the truth and telling a lie.”

“What about Stanford?” Alex asks, looking at him.

“I don’t know. Maybe they won’t even hear about it.  It’s not like we’re going to make the evening news. And even if they do hear about it, maybe they won’t care.” Zach is counting on the former rather than the latter. “And if they do – if they hear about it and they care and they change their mind about wanting me to play for them because of it… well, then maybe I don’t want to play for them either. I’ll call Davis and tell them I’ll play for them. I already applied and I know they wouldn’t care about us.”

It’s a plan. It’s not perfect and they both know a lot of things could go wrong with it, but it’s a plan. It’s hope; it’s a chance of things turning out okay after all. It helps them both calm down.

Alex holds Zach’s hand tighter; he rubs his other hand up and down Zach’s thigh. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

They look at each other: the decision is made.

Now all there's left to do is wait for Monday morning to get it over it: the weekend is going to be torture.


	9. December (Part 1)

### XXXVII.

It’s Monday morning and Zach and Alex are looking at the school entrance, trying to build up the courage to leave the safety of Zach’s car and face their classmates.

Alex doesn’t care about what they will say. He knows most people will be cool with it and the bullies won’t be much harder to deal with than before. He’ll get some special attention from them for a few days but he can handle it. It’s the staring he hates; it puts him on edge.

But, more than that, he’s worried about Zach. He’ll have a tougher time. He has to play with those bullies. He has to shower with them and get changed in front of them.

“Maybe we should ditch school today,” he says. “Give them a day to get most of the hate out of their system while we’re not there.”

“I’ve got a game tonight. Coach will kill me if I’m not there,” Zach replies, but he doesn’t move. His heart is racing and his body is tense: ready for a fight. He’s been feeling this way ever since he saw the picture of him and Alex kissing. He was jumpy all weekend, wired up with anxious energy. He barely got any sleep. He even tried running for longer than usual, until his legs were about to give out, until he was so tired that he could hardly stand: it didn’t help.

If the messages he got over the past couple of days are any indication, today is going to be hell.

A light tap on the window makes them both jump in surprise.

It’s Clay.

Justin, Jess and Chloe are standing a couple of feet away, looking at the school entrance like they’re sizing up the enemy.

Zach lowers the window.

“We thought you could use some company this morning,” Clay says.

“Safety in numbers, or some shit,” Justin adds, getting closer.

“We still haven’t decided if we’re going in today,” Zach admits. He knows they get it. For different reasons, they’ve all been through it.

The girls step closer as well.

“If it helps, I already talked with the other cheerleaders and they’re all supporting you guys,” Chloe says. “And a few of them are going to talk to their boyfriends on the basketball team and tell them to do the same.”

“It’s not going to be any easier tomorrow,” Jess reminds them. “But if you can’t face them today, we all get it and we’re ready to ditch with you if you want.”

“Except Justin, who can’t miss any more school and who needs to play tonight if you’re not,” Clay adds. He looks at Zach as he talks, but then shoots Justin a look. They must have discussed it already and Justin probably isn’t too happy that Clay is having his way.

Zach turns around and looks at Alex.

“It’s up to you, Zach. I’m cool with whatever,” Alex says.

Jess is right: it’s not going to get any easier if they wait. Zach glances at the school once again. He’d rather face a bear with his hands tied behind his back than his classmates, but it’s not like he gets to choose.

“Let’s go in,” he says. He gets out of the car.

Justin pats his shoulders, as if to say, _I’ve got your back_.

“Whatever happens, it gets better, right?” Alex says, somehow managing to sound both optimistic and cynical.

“Whatever happens, you’ve got us,” Jess corrects.

Zach locks his car and pockets the key, then gets closer to Alex and locks eyes with him. “Ready?” he asks, offering his hand to hold.

Alex doesn’t hesitate to take it. “As ready as I’m ever going to be.”

They walk together towards the school surrounded by their friends. They feel like every single one of their schoolmates is watching them. Zach is used to the attention but this is different. Not everyone is judging them; most people are probably just curious. It doesn’t matter. It still feels like an attack. An invasion of privacy. Right now, their relationship is everyone’s business.

Zach overhears a few crude, predictable “tight end or wide receiver” jokes. Some laughter. Many whispers. He avoids their eyes but tries to walk with confidence.

By his side, Alex keeps his head high and boldly looks at his classmates in the eye. He’s not giving them the finger but he might as well be. “Enjoying the fucking show?” he shouts at some point, at no one in particular.

“Alex,” Zach whispers. He doesn’t say anything else, just his name.

Alex squeezes his hand in a silent apology. He promised Zach he would avoid making a scene. Keeping that promise is proving harder than he thought but he’s going to try his best. For Zach. Which is why, when they get to his locker and find “Faggot” written across it in purple marker, he doesn’t say a word. He opens the locker as if the writing wasn’t even there. As if the word didn’t just stab him through the stomach. He hears laughter. Nervous, amused, embarrassed, proud. No matter how people feel about it, they’re laughing. He wants to call them out on it. He doesn’t.

“It’ll wash off. Let me get…” Jess says.

Alex interrupts her: “Leave it. I don’t care.”

It’s a lie: he does care. He wishes he didn’t; he wishes he could feel proud or at least indifferent, but it hurts. He hopes it doesn’t show. They don’t get to see the damage they’re doing.

He slams his locker shut, then looks at Zach. “Walk me to first period?” he asks. He tries to sound normal and falls just short.

“Yeah, sure.” Zach’s voice is strained.

* * *

Clay drops his backpack on the floor and takes a seat next to Alex. ”How’s it going?”

“Considering all the shitty days I’ve had in the past couple of years, today doesn’t even make the top ten. I can handle it. Nobody died, and the staring and whispering were worse when I came back to school last year,” Alex says. He tries for a joke: “And as far as coming outs go, the tapes got more attention that Zach and I did.”

“Yeah, I’m still sorry about that.”

Alex shrugs. “It was for the best in the end. At least everybody knows. No more secrets.” He doesn’t know if he’s talking about the tapes or his relationship with Zach.

“I still don’t get why they’re making such a big deal out of it,” Clay says. “You and Zach, I mean.”

“Because they’re close-minded and mean? Because their lives are small and boring, and they love gossip?” Alex muses. But he knows this is only true of a small percentage of students. The bullies see it as a weapon to use against them, but everybody else doesn’t really care. Alex looks at Clay. “Do you think it would be such a big deal if I was dating you instead of Zach?”

“Yes?”

Alex shakes his head. “No. No, it wouldn’t. They would talk about it, but they’d be over it by lunch. It’s not about me, it’s about Zach. They can’t believe their star basketball player likes a guy. That he likes _me_.”

Clay pauses. Could Alex be right? He thinks back to his freshman year, when someone spread a rumor about him being gay. The bullies had fun with it all year, but almost nobody else cared. A guy asked him out, no girl did, and that was it. “So you’re saying most people are not homophobic?”

“I’m saying most people are a different kind of homophobic. A subtler kind. They allow us to be… _not straight_ , but only if we fit into their narrow definitions of gay or bi or… well, I don’t think they even know there’s more than three options,” Alex says.

They get on his nerves, all the assumptions people are making about his and Zach’s sexual orientation. He wonders if Jess and Hannah are being dragged into it as well. He hopes not.

“They’re shocked because by their definition, Zach should be straight. He’s a jock, so he has no place liking guys,” he goes on. He’s quite certain that many of their classmates also think Zach shouldn’t date someone like him. He doesn’t say that, even though he knows Clay would get it. “I’m worried about him. About the game tonight. What they will say.”

Clay pats his arm, trying to be encouraging. “We’ll be there.”

“Yeah, five of us against five hundred assholes. Great odds.”

“His boyfriend and friends against five hundred strangers. Who do you think Zach is going to notice more?” Clay insists.

Alex is positive that the correct answer is the five hundred strangers who will stare at him wondering if he really belongs on that basketball court now. Or maybe the fifty bullies who will shout mean, hurtful things at him. Not the five people who love him. Before he can say anything, Ms. Cusick rushes into the classroom apologizing for being late.

Clay gets his notepad and pen, then looks at Alex. “I know you’re worried about him and that’s fair, but don’t use Zach to hide from your feelings, okay?”

“I’m fine. I’ll be fine,” Alex promises.

* * *

Justin hands Jessica another handwipe, then leans against the lockers and looks at her. She’s angrily scrubbing Alex’s locker clean.

“I think it’s coming off,” she says.

Justin sighs. Does it really make a difference? Some other jerk is just going to write something else on it. New color, new words, equally hurtful. He knows how it works: he’s been the bully. But what are they supposed to do? Just leave it? No fucking way.

“Good,” he says. “We’ll do Zach’s next.”

After a few minutes, Jess stops scrubbing and takes a step back. She can still see the faint outline of one of the G’s, but the rest is gone. Not bad, considering she only has handwipes to work with. She takes Justin’s hand and they walk together to Zach’s locker.

There are three students in front of it already. Justin tenses up; Jess pulls him by the arm, silently asking him not to start a fight. As soon as they get closer, they realize that the kids standing around Zach’s locker are Cyrus and his friends. They are not writing anything on it; they are cleaning it.

“You’ve come prepared,” Jess tells Cyrus, nodding at the paper towels and rubbing alcohol he’s holding.

“We kinda have to. Your friends aren’t used to this but we are,” Cyrus says with a shrug.

“Well, _thank you_ ,” Jess says.

Cyrus nods. “They don’t deserve it.”

* * *

Chloe places her book on the desk and takes a seat next to Zach. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” Zach replies automatically. Then he sighs. “I’m really not, actually. I’m trying not to care, but…”

“But they make it impossible,” Chloe finishes for him.

He nods. “And this is the easy part. Tonight, at the game, it’s gonna be worse.”

Chloe is very familiar with the dread that comes from having to step in front of an audience who have been whispering, gossiping and openly insulting you all day. It takes everything you’ve got and then some not to run and hide.

She covers Zach’s hand with her own. “Remember you won’t be alone. It helps.”

* * *

A locker room is a scary, uncomfortable place. You have to undress in front of your classmates, exposing your body with all its flaws and imperfections. Clothes are like an armor: without their protection, you’re left vulnerable to unkind eyes. Nobody’s looking, nobody dares to _stare_ , but you still feel like they all are.

Well, unless you are one of the jocks.

Then the locker room is where you hang out with your friends before and after practice, where you mentally prepare yourself for a game, where you effortlessly joke with your teammates – barely aware of whether or not you’re wearing a t-shirt.

That’s how it used to be for Zach. Until last week. Until that picture. Now everything is different. He doesn’t know if he’s got it in him to go inside and face his teammates.

He feels a pat on his shoulder. He turns around, thinking it must be Justin, but it’s actually Scott Reed. He’s a much better baseball player than a basketball one, but he’s still part of the team. Zach holds his breath and waits for the insult, the mean joke, whatever hurting words are going to come out of Scott’s mouth.

“We’re not all homophobic dicks, Dempsey,” Scott says instead. He opens the door. “Get your ass in there. We’re fucked without you tonight.”

Zach wants to say something – something meaningful – but he doesn’t quite know what exactly. (Should he thank him? But for what exactly? For being a decent human being?) So he just says, “Yeah. You’re lucky I’m here.” Then, he steps inside the locker room with Scott right behind him.

Most players are there already in various stages of undress and distress. Nerves are always high before a game and everyone handles it differently: some talk too much, others fall silent; some listen to music, others have special rituals for the way they tie their shoes; some joke around to blow some steam, others look for the quietest corner in the room.

They all look at Zach when he walks in.

He lowers his eyes.

“What, you don’t like what you see?” one of the guys calls.

“Oh, I bet he does!”

“Nah! We’re too manly. Have you seen Standall?”

“Can Standall even get it up? Or is that what the cane is for?”

“What the fuck are you even doing here? You should use the girl’s locker room!”

Zach wants to leave. He also wants to punch them, hard. He doesn’t do either, nor does he say something back. There’s a time to stand up to bullies, but it’s not this one. Whatever he does here, he’s going to lose.

He walks to his locker and opens it. There’s a pink t-shirt inside with the number 7 hand-drawn on the front in red ink.

“We thought you’d feel more comfortable wearing that,” Monty explains, a wicked grin on his face.

Willem is holding his phone up. “Smile for the camera, Dempsey!”

That’s it. Zach turns around to face him. He launches himself at him, raging, ready to give him a black eye and a few broken ribs.

Willem takes a step back. The coward.

Nobody even tries to stop Zach. Not the guys who were laughing at him a moment ago, not even Willem’s friends. Cowards. All of them.

It’s Coach Patrick that stops Zach from punching him: “That’s enough!”

His voice is authoritative; he doesn’t need to shout for the whole locker room to go still and silent. He’s got that kind of power.

“You should be ashamed of yourselves,” he says. The players look down at their shoes. “Dempsey, my office. Everyone else, finish getting ready and think about what it means to be a team.”

Coach Patrick walks back into his office, leaving the door open. Zach follows him quietly, closes the door, and then stands there with his shoulders squared and his eyes respectfully lowered.

“It was just a misunderstanding,” he lies.

“Spare me. I’ve been coaching high school basketball for longer than you’ve been alive, Zach. I know a thing or two about teenagers,” coach Patrick says. “And I’ve heard the rumors.”

Zach flinches ever so slightly. He opens his mouth to say something, but coach Patrick stops him by raising his hand.

“I don’t care if it’s true or not. It’s your own business. Just keep it out of the locker room and off the court. I’ll do my best to make sure everyone else does the same thing.”

Zach nods. “You got it, Coach.”

“You will let me know if there are any problems, won’t you?”

“I will,” Zach says, even though they both know he won’t.

“Good. Go get ready now.”

“Yes, Coach. Thank you.”

Zach goes back to the locker room. They all look at him, but nobody says a word this time. It’s supposed to be better, but, somehow, it’s not. He avoids meeting their eyes and purposefully walks to his locker.

A couple of seconds later, Justin is by his side. “What happened?” he asks in a whisper.

Zach toes off his shoes. “Coach knows,” he says. He takes off his hoodie and t-shirt, then his jeans.

“Shit. I’m sorry I wasn’t here. Fucking Metcalf chose today to give me a fucking talk. I couldn’t get away.”

“Don’t worry, it was fine.” Zach keeps his voice low. He quickly changes into his basketball uniform, then sits on the bench to put on his shoes. He catches Justin looking at the pink t-shirt inside his locker. “Forget about it. It doesn’t matter.”

Justin pats his back.

“They’ll be glad you’re wearing blue once the game starts,” he says. Which is fucking stupid, of course, but what else is he supposed to say?

“Yeah.” Zach looks up at him. “Don’t tell Alex, okay?”

“I won’t.”

 

 

### XXXVIII.

Zach and Alex sit next to each other on the couch in the Standalls’ living room. Their parents, standing over them, are taking turns asking questions. They want to know what happened. Did they _decide_ to tell the whole school? How did everyone find out, then?

Bill wants to know when and where the picture was taken and posted, by whom, whether they’ve been victims of any bullying, what their classmates said and did exactly.

(“It’s not a fucking police investigation, Dad,” Alex says. But then he tells him about Friday night and about “that motherfucker, Willem.” He shrugs when his father asks about the bullying, and it’s Zach who cracks under Mr. Standall’s gaze and admits there’s been some unpleasant situations.)

Karen wants to know why they weren’t more careful, and whether the school is aware of the situation and did something to protect them.

(Zach tries to say that they weren’t doing anything wrong, but she shushes him.

“The school didn’t do shit, as usual. Big fucking surprise there,” Alex says.)

Carolyn wants to know if they’re okay.

(Zach and Alex shake their heads no; they don’t elaborate.)

Then, comes the question they don’t know how to answer: Why didn’t they tell their parents what was going on?

The answer is complicated. There’s not one reason, there’s at least a dozen: they didn’t want their parents to worry, they didn’t want them to make a big deal out of it, they didn’t want them to get involved and talk to Bolan and turn it into an even bigger mess. They didn’t want to be called rats as well as faggots. Alex wanted to prove – to everyone, to himself – that he can take care of himself, that he can be independent, that he doesn’t need his parents to help him. Zach knew his mother would be upset about it: she wanted him to keep it a secret, after all. He was afraid this would put a strain on their still rocky relationship. In a way, he didn’t want to disappoint her. (Although he never admitted that, not even to himself.) Lastly, a small part of both Zach and Alex was hoping it wouldn’t be so bad and they could go home on Monday night, tell their parents they’d been outed and immediately reassure them that everything was fine.

The answer is complicated, so Zach and Alex share a look and remain silent.

They knew they wouldn’t be able to keep it from their parents for long, but they thought they would have a few days, at least. And they would have, if Karen and Bill hadn’t come to the basketball game, if they hadn’t witnessed the bullying first-hand.

“Alright, why don’t you boys go upstairs? I’ll bring you a snack in a little bit,” Carolyn says.

“I don’t want a fucking snack,” says Alex. “If you’re going to talk about us, we should be here. We’re not children. We should have a say. It’s _our_ fucking life.”

* * *

Alex and Zach get sent upstairs: their parents promise they are just going to talk, not make any decisions, and then send them to Alex’s room. Like they’re fucking nine years old.

The only reason why Alex doesn’t make a scene is because he’s too tired. Today feels endless. It’s sucked all the energy out of him. All the fight.

_Almost_ all the fight.

He climbs up the stairs in silence, but not all the way to the top. Once he’s out of his parents’ sight, he stops and sits down. He looks up at Zach. “I want to know what they decide to do,” he whispers.

Zach nods, then walks up the last few steps, gets to Alex’s bedroom, and opens the doors. He waits a few seconds before closing it – loudly enough that it can be heard from the living room. Then, quietly, he goes back and joins Alex on the stairs. He sits down next to him, their hips touching.

“Good thinking,” Alex whispers.

They focus their attention on the conversation happening in the living room, holding hands almost unconsciously, out of habit.

“Maybe we should let them try and deal with their classmates themselves,” Bill suggests. “After all—"

Carolyn cuts him off: “Do I have to remind you what happened last time Alex had to deal with it himself?”

“I’m just saying, we might make it worse if we talk to the school. We could try supporting him without interfering,” Bill says. “And he’s going to be on his own next year. He should learn how to fight his own battles now, when we’re here to catch him if he falls.”

“He _knows_ how to fight, Bill. What he needs to learn is how to ask for help!”

Alex shakes his head. His parents don’t get it, and they are delusional if they think talking to Bolan will help. If they think anything will help. You don’t change people’s prejudices in a week, and you certainly don’t do it with a nice talk and some fucking posters.

He’s about to get up to go give them a piece of his mind when Zach pulls him to him. There’s a desperation, a neediness in the way he holds on to him. He’s not saying, _Don’t go_. He’s saying, _Stay with me_.

Alex settles into his arms and holds his hand tighter.

“This sounds like a discussion you need to have in private. How you choose to raise your son is your own business,” Karen says. She manages to almost keep the judgement out of her voice. “I, for one, won’t allow the school to turn a blind eye on my boy being bullied like that. I already made an appointment to meet with principal Bolan tomorrow morning.”

Alex rolls his eyes. So much for involving them in the decision.

“Do you think Bolan will be helpful?” asks Carolyn.

“I’ll make sure he knows he can either solve the problem, or be replaced by someone who can,” Karen says matter-of-factly.

They are quiet, then, and Alex figures his parents are probably engaged in a staring match to see which one of them will get their way. A few seconds later, his father sighs and says, “Alright, alright, I trust you.”

“Thank you,” his mother says. “Why don’t we go to the kitchen? I’ll make coffee and we can write a list of things we need from the school.”

Alex waits until they’ve disappeared into the kitchen and closed the door behind them before he turns to Zach. “They’re gonna make it worse,” he whispers.

“We can talk to them if you want, but my mom won’t change her mind,” Zach says. Not after what happened at the game. She heard the insults, the horrible, hurting words they used against them. She saw the fight that almost broke out in the middle of the basketball court after Monty, once again, crossed the line. And then, after the game, she demanded to see the picture Willem posted and she read the comments.

Alex buries his face into the crook of his neck and Zach rubs his back.

“How are you?” Alex asks after a few moments, pulling back so he can look at him.

“I’m… a lot of things right now.”

“Angry? Tired? Scared?” Alex suggests. “Hurt? And angry that they were able to hurt you? And frustrated because there’s nothing we can do? And anxious at the idea of having to do it all over again tomorrow?”

Zach nods. “Yes. All of them. And disappointed in myself for the way I played tonight.”

He was distracted and kept making stupid mistakes. Every time he tried to focus on the game, someone would shout something that threw him off balance.

“Wanna run away with me?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

Alex rests his head on Zach’s shoulder. Today it’s up to him to be the optimistic one. “Whatever happens, we’re together. And we only have a few months left before we can leave all those assholes behind,” he says. It’s not much, but it’s something. “We’ll be in college soon, and we won’t have to deal with them anymore.”

“What are we going to do to tomorrow, though?”

Alex doesn’t have a good answer to that.

* * *

On Tuesday night, Alex eats his dinner in silence while his mom complains to his dad about principal Bolan.

“He sat there and gave us a speech. He made some vague promises and expected it to be enough,” she says. “He kept talking about the metal detectors, like they made any difference last night.”

Alex thinks that what they need is an asshole detector since the teachers seem to be unable to spot them. He doesn’t say that. He’s too tired to join the discussion. He pushes his veggies around his plate, then eats a small forkful of brown rice. He could have told them last night that Bolan would be useless.

“At least he said he was going to keep an eye on the situation,” his father says, trying to be positive.

Alex doesn’t want his parents to keep worrying about him. It won’t change anything anyway. He forces himself to eat a few more bites. “It was already a bit better today,” he says. It’s true. Sort of. The bullies were just as bad, but at least some of their classmates seemed to be over it so there was less staring. “Thank you for talking with Bolan.”

“You will tell us if something happens, or if you’re having a hard time, won’t you?”

He nods. “Yes, Mom, I will. Don’t worry. I’ll be okay. I’ve got you, and Zach and my friends, and I’m seeing doctor Ellman tomorrow,” he says. She still looks nervous. So does his father. He looks down at his plate, still mostly full, then back at them. “I am not going to—” He can’t say it. “I am _not_ in that place. I haven’t even thought about it, okay?”

“That’s good, buddy,” his father says.

“Yes. Very good.” His mother’s voice is steady, but her eyes are glittering with unshed tears.

“I’m okay,” he repeats.

This time he believes it, too.

* * *

“I’m going to get other parents involved. I’m going to talk to a lawyer if we need to. The school has a responsibility to protect you,” Karen says during dinner. She then looks at her daughter. “May, don’t think I haven’t noticed you aren’t eating your Brussels sprouts.”

May spears one with her fork and stares at it. She makes a face.

“We don’t need a lawyer, Mom,” Zach says.

“What happened?” asks May. Her mother gives her a stern look and she forces herself to put the Brussels sprout into her mouth and chew. _Disgusting_.

Karen nods approvingly. “Some kids are spreading lies about Zach at school.”

“They’re not _lies_ ,” Zach counters. He looks at his sister. “There’s a picture of Alex and I kissing. Some of the guys are being—” He thinks of a word he can say in front of his mother instead of _jerks_. “—mean about it.”

“Are you okay?”

It’s May who asks the question, but Zach feels his mother’s eyes on him, too. She wants to know the answer even though she never asked the question. This gives him hope and makes him feel angry at the same time.

“It’s hard, but I’m okay,” he says.

“And Alex?”

“Alex, too.”

 

 

### XXXIX.

Chloe is eating Alex’s quinoa salad, Justin is enthusiastically digging into Chloe’s pasta salad, Clay is having Zach’s chicken wrap, and Zach and Alex have two plates of Matt’s mac and cheese in front of them courtesy of Justin and Clay.

They don’t do it every day, but sometimes swapping makes lunch at school a bit better.

“This is so good,” Justin says in between bites. “And _you_ made it?”

“I had to learn how to cook,” Chloe explains. “After my parents got divorced, my mom had to start working extra shifts. She usually comes home late at least three times a week, so I cook dinner for my sister.”

Justin looks impressed. “Well, Amber would make dinner exactly zero times a year. All I learned to do was use the microwave.”

He’s been doing that, lately. Saying _Amber_ instead of _my mother_. He’s distancing himself from her. Clay still hasn’t figured out if it’s a good thing or not, but has decided to be happy about it. The further away Justin gets from that woman, physically and mentally, the better. She’s hurt him enough.

“To be fair, you’re a pro at microwaving stuff,” he says.

Justin smiles. “That’s true.”

“You jerks! You didn’t wait for me?” Jess takes a seat next to Chloe.

“We were starving. Were have you been?” Zach asks.

“Singh wanted to talk to me about my future. My father probably put her up to it.” She looks at the Caesar salad her mother packed for her. It could have been worse. “But I forgive him because he found the most amazing place for us for New Year’s and he offered to pay for it.”

She looks at her friends: everyone lights up. Yeah, it was definitely worth begging her dad for days.

Between school and college applications, between Seth and the bullies at school, between stress and sad anniversaries, the last few months have been hard on all of them. They need a break. They _deserve_ a break.

“You’re the best!”

“It’s going to be awesome!”

“We’re gonna have so much fun.”

“Can we skip the next three weeks?”

Justin kisses her – just a quick peck on the lips – and smiles. “Thank you.”

She smiles back.

* * *

Alex peels off the paper, then, carefully, wraps the sticker around his cane. He smooths it down and runs his hand over it a few times to make sure it stays on.

“It looks good,” Zach says, looking at the rainbow flag that now decorates Alex’s cane.

They’re in Alex’s room, sitting next to each other on the bed. They finally have some time together. They’ve barely gotten any this week and they need it more than ever.

“Take a picture. I want your sister to see it.” May was the one who found the sticker and gave it to Zach to give to Alex. She deserves to be the first one to see it.

Zach snaps a photo and sends it to his sister, then slides his arms around Alex’s waist and pulls him down on the bed with him. His hand trails along Alex’s side. He kisses his shoulder tenderly and feels his muscles relax.

Alex looks at him. Zach’s eyes are so beautiful. So kind. He runs his fingers through his hair, brushing it back. He’s tired of talking about school, about what’s going on there. So, instead, he says, “I played the guitar last night. Well, I _tried_. It didn’t sound too good. But it was less horrible than I thought it would be.”

For the past year, ever since coming home from the hospital, he’s refused to even touch his guitars. There was a moment, back in January, when he wanted to sell them all. What was the point of keeping them when his useless left hand was never going to allow him to play them again? But his hand is stronger now. He’s going to need to practice a lot and find new ways to play some chords and to move between them, but he thinks he can do it.

It’s something he needs to work for, not something he permanently fucked up.

“Does it mean you’re going to keep practicing, then?”

He nods. “I don’t care how long it takes. I’m going to play again.”

“I’m proud of you, you know?” Zach pulls him closer and kisses him. He likes to see Alex committed and passionate. He also can’t help but feel happy and relieved every time Alex talks about the future. He’s come a long way from casually saying he doesn’t have any plans.

* * *

Chloe holds up two bottles of nail polish: a pastel blue one called _Was It All Just a Dream?_ , and a pink one named _Heart Throb_. “Which one says, _I’m going to ace my midterms_?” she asks.

“Pink, obviously,” Jess says without pausing to think. “Do you have anything in a shade of red that says, _Don’t mess with me, I’m sleep deprived_?”

Chloe goes through her collection of nail polish looking for a nice red one for Jess. “Nightmares again, or were you up late studying for the midterms?”

“College applications, actually. Which are all due _right now_. And I knew that, I just didn’t think I had to worry about it because I wasn’t going, right? But a few days ago I panicked and decided to apply to a few just to keep my options open.” Jess takes the bottle of deep red nail polish Chloe has picked for her. “This is pretty.”

“You deserve pretty.” Chloe sits back on the bed next to her. “And I think it was smart to apply, in case you want to go. Just do what _you_ want, not what your dad wants.”

“I kind of want to go,” Jess admits. She starts painting Chloe’s nails pink. “I want the experience. But I don’t know what I want to be. I don’t even know who I am, how can I decide what I’m going to do for the rest of my life?”

Chloe looks at her. “You’re allowed to change your mind later. And you don’t have to declare a major right away.”

“I know.” Jess sighs. “Maybe I just hate the idea of starting over, once again. New city, new people. I’m going to miss you guys so much.”

“It feels unfair. We just became friends. I want more time with you.”

Jess starts working on Chloe’s other hand. “We could always fail our exams and repeat senior year.”

Chloe laughs. “I love you, but I don’t love you that much.”

 

 

### XL.

Hillcrest High School’s basketball team is one of the strongest in the championship, but that’s not why Zach and Justin dread playing against them. Games that are hard to win bring out the best in them and they love playing against strong teams. Adrenaline runs high, and winning is that much sweeter when there’s a real risk of losing.

If they play well, if they don’t make any mistakes, they can absolutely win. They know that. That’s not the problem.

The problem is, it’s an away game and Bryce is very likely to be there, surrounded by his new friends. They are going into enemy territory: he’s the king there and the chances of getting out unscathed are small.

Zach stays up late the night before doing push-ups. But once he gets into bed, even though he’s exhausted, he still can’t sleep.

He texts Alex.  
  
Zach: Are you awake?  
Alex: no i'm sleeping  
Zach: Very funny  


Alex calls him. Zach never texts him at 1 A.M. unless he’s worried or needs to talk.

“Are you worried about me or the game?” Alex asks when Zach picks up.

“I’m worried about Bryce. No way he doesn’t know about us.”

Alex closes his eyes. “Zach, whatever he says, it doesn’t matter. I get it that it’s hard being out there on the court. _I get it_. But Bryce is a fucking _rapist_. Don’t let _him_ make you feel ashamed of _us_. We’re not doing anything wrong.”

“I know, I _know_.” Zach sighs. “And I’m not. I swear I’m not ashamed of us. I’m just tired of taking hits, you know? I’m trying to be strong, to not let it get to me, but it’s getting harder, and Bryce is good at hurting people.”

Bryce has always had a talent for picking the words that cut the deepest, and that was when they were friends.

“Do you want me to kick his ass? I’ll do it.”

Zach smiles. “I know you would. But I just need you to be there.”

“Of course I’ll be there. And so will our friends, and your mom and your sister,” Alex says. “Bryce will be an asshole but you know why? Because he’s fucking jealous. He’s ruined every single friendship he had and his own parents can’t stand to be around him. Do you think our parents would pick Ibiza over us?”

Zach’s voice is more relaxed now: “I think his parents would pick a waste disposal plant over him.”

“See? They’re smarter than we give them credit for.”

“I’m going to think about this conversation tomorrow night in the locker room,” Zach says.

“Think you can sleep now?” Alex asks.

Zach rolls onto his side. “Yeah. You?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.” It’s a way to say goodnight but it’s also a promise. Alex knows that Zach sometimes needs the reassurance.

“Goodnight, Alex. I love you.”

“I love you.”

* * *

Justin skips breakfast. He’s going to throw up if he tries to eat anything. He lets Clay distract him on the way to school and does his best not to think about how much easier it would be to face Bryce if he was high.

“Are you sure you’re okay to play?” asks Clay while he parks the car.

“I’ll be okay. You’ll be there, right?”

Clay kills the engine and then looks at him. “I’ll be right there, and so will Mom and Dad. Last night, while you were in the shower, Mom was threatening to sue Bryce if he even looks at you wrong, so he should be the one who’s worried.”

Justin smiles. “I’d like to see that.”

* * *

Chloe sleeps over at Jess’s that night. They wouldn’t usually be allowed on a school night, but their parents make an exception. They talk about books and movies until there are no demons left in the bedroom and inside their heads, and in the morning, at school, they hold hands as they walk down the hallway.

Jess doesn’t let go even as she kisses Justin good morning.

“Do I get extra points for being cool with you holding someone else’s hand in front of me?” Justin asks, amused.

“Coolest boyfriend ever!” Jess smiles.

“Boyfriend, uh?”

She shrugs, as if that’s obvious. “Yeah, boyfriend.” She touches his arm. “Is that okay?”

“More than okay.” Justin smiles and leans in for another kiss.

“You two are adorable,” Chloe says. “But,” she adds as she pulls Jess into a hug, “today she's mine.”

* * *

Monty is barely on the team. He only gets to play when the game is already won, or the result doesn’t matter. Coach Patrick _lets_ him play. Zach, instead, is the kind of player that coach Patrick _needs_. The team’s been built around him. And Justin? Justin’s the heart of the team, the one who keeps fighting until the very last second and gets everyone else to do the same. That’s why he’s team captain.

So, when yet another fight breaks out in the locker room, coach Patrick’s decision doesn’t really surprise anyone. It’s the easy choice.

It’s easy for coach Patrick to pick a side, to pick Zach’s side.

Monty storms out, fuming. Zach and Justin change into their basketball uniforms.

* * *

Monty isn’t even allowed to watch the game from the bench with his team, so he decides they’re not his team after all. When he heads for the bleachers, he picks Hillcrest’s side. Bryce is sitting front and center, surrounded by his new friends.

“The fuck are you doing here, Monty?” he asks, as if they were never friends.

Someone else – someone with more people in his corner – would tell him to fuck off and then leave. Monty, instead, tells Bryce about Zach. More specifically, about Zach and Alex. Bryce smiles, then tells the redhead sitting to his right to move so that Monty can sit next to him.

The game doesn’t matter to Monty now: he’s already won.

* * *

Coach Patrick is not the kind of man who talks about feelings. If he were, maybe he’d tell Zach that he would’ve stood by him even if Monty had been a better player than him. Maybe he would tell him that he’s the better guy, not just the better player. Maybe he would tell him he’s proud of him, and not because of how many baskets he scores.

If he had, maybe Zach would have felt supported instead of just needed.

Maybe it would have been easier to ignore the bullies.

* * *

The vast majority of the Liberty Tigers supporters are cheering for him. In the hallways, in the classrooms, in the cafeteria, some of them quietly judge him or even openly hate him, but here, on the basketball court, they love him. Only a handful of kids from Liberty High are shouting insults at him and even they shut up when he scores.

Basketball unites and erases differences. Zach isn’t sure if it’s a good thing or not.

He knows some people are willing to forgive him for loving a guy if he’s good enough at sports. Maybe that isn’t good or bad; it’s simply unfair. Maybe the point is not that they forgive him or why, but that they think he needs forgiveness to begin with.

They hate him for being different. They love him for wearing their colors on the court.

He expected it. He’s ready for it. He looks for Alex in the stands. For his sister, his mom. His friends. He looks at Justin.

He takes a deep breath.

He can do this.

And then the other side starts screaming his name. They don’t know him, they have no reason to love him. They want to crush him and so they show no restraint. They hate him for being different _and_ for wearing the wrong colors.

It’s a lot of hate.

It’s more than Zach can take.

Still – _still_ – he keeps playing. He tries to ignore them. He doesn’t engage with them. When coach Patrick demands the referee takes action against the Hillcrest supporters, Zach says it doesn’t matter. He says he’s fine because he doesn’t want to cause a scene.

He keeps it together because he doesn’t want to let them see him break.

But, inside, he’s all shattered pieces and pulsing pain.

He’s distracted.

That’s when we make mistakes. That’s when we get hurt.

That’s when Zach gets hurt.

* * *

Last time Zach hurt his ankle, he walked off the field with Justin’s help. Ten minutes later, he was back on his feet and he finished the game. Afterwards, he told his mother he didn’t need to see a doctor.

This time, it’s Justin _and_ Anders who help him to the bench and he’s hopping more than walking. He doesn’t go back in; he sits quietly on the bench and watches his teammates play as he ices his ankle. After the game, when his mother announces she’s taking him to the hospital, he doesn’t say he doesn’t need to see a doctor. He says he can wait till tomorrow morning.

That’s how Alex knows that Zach is really hurt this time.

It takes him a bit longer to figure out why he wants to wait till tomorrow morning to go to the hospital.

Zach is sitting down. Alex, May and Mrs. Dempsey are standing around him. May is quiet, and for once Alex is too. He keeps his mouth shut and his hands firmly on Zach’s shoulders. This is between Zach and his mother.

She’s doing most of the talking, but he’s not backing down.

The Dempseys have a strange way of communicating with each other. Alex is used to speak his mind, so it takes him a while to figure out what they’re not saying.

Zach keeps saying he’s tired and doesn’t want to spend the next few hours at the E.R., while Karen insists that he needs to see a doctor tonight. Zach usually does as he’s told. He only fights with her when he has a very good reason. When he cares so much that—

Alex looks at May. Her head is lowered, she’s staring at her shoes. This is about her.

This is what they aren’t saying. This is what the fight is really about.

Karen thinks her child’s physical health is more important than her other child’s mental health. Zach knows he needs a doctor, but he’s putting his little sister first: he knows May still has nightmares about the hospital. About the day their father died. He’s willing to spend a night in pain so that his sister won’t have to.

“Zach, your mom’s right. You should get your ankle looked at tonight,” Alex says. “May, why don’t you come home with me? We can watch a movie or something. If it’s okay with you, Mrs. Dempsey?”

May nods a bit too eagerly.

“Yes. That’s settled, then. Thank you, Alex,” Karen says. “I’ll go get the car.”

Just like that.

Alex almost rolls his eyes.

“Are you going to be okay?” May asks Zach as soon as their mother is gone.

“I’m going to be just fine,” Zach promises. Then, because he can see she’s scared and he knows why, he opens his arms. “Come here.”

As he hugs her tight, he looks at Alex. “Thank you,” he mouths.

 

 

### XLI.

Zach doesn’t complain. Not even once. He follows his doctor’s orders and keeps a positive attitude. He says the tests and follow-up appointment on Wednesday will only confirm that it’s a mild sprain. No need to make a big deal out of it.

He tells his mother and sister not to worry. (But lets his mom spoil him a little with all his favorite dishes.)

He tells Alex he’s going to be just fine. (But appreciates the cuddles.)

He tells Justin he’s sure it’s nothing. (And pretends not to notice that Justin doesn’t believe him.)

He tells his coach he’ll be back after winter break. (But doesn’t even try to walk without crutches.)

He’s very convincing, and he believes it himself. Most of the time, anyway.

* * *

He’s _not_ fine. It’s _not_ nothing. He’s _not_ going to be playing any games when he comes back to school in January. It’s going to be six weeks before he can start training again. He probably won’t be able to play until February. Which means, he won’t play at all unless they get to the play-offs – and that’s looking unlikely now that their star player is injured and benched.

In the doctor’s office, Zach listens, nods, and lets his mother ask all the questions. In the car, he tells her he’s okay. At home, when he calls Alex, he says it’s only a bit longer than he expected but it’s doesn’t matter. To his coach he promises to do whatever it takes to be back in a month.

Then, when his mother leaves to pick May up from school, he punches the pillow and falls apart.

This wasn’t fucking supposed to happen.

* * *

The thing about friends is, they don’t believe you when you say you’re okay just because it would be easier for them not to deal with it. They don’t want what’s easier for them; they want what’s best for you. So, they show up even when you tell them they don’t need to, and they hug you even after you tell them you’re okay.

They all come together directly from school and tell Mrs. Dempsey they’re here to bring Zach his homework. She lets them in and doesn’t ask why it takes five people to do that, especially since Zach only missed his last two classes of the day for his doctor’s appointment.

They don’t make a big deal out of it. They don’t ask if he’s okay because they know he’d just lie again. They keep him company; they try to take his mind off it. They are a little bit more affectionate than usual, they try just a little bit harder.

Jess hugs him. Justin recounts coach Patrick’s failed attempts at replacing Zach. Clay jokes that coach Patrick is probably considering having Zach play on crutches.

“On crutches, blindfolded _and_ drunk, you’d still play better than Monty or Chace on a good day,” Justin says. “They’re so fucking hopeless.”

“Coach Loftin saw them play and asked Patrick if he wanted to borrow one of her cheerleaders,” Chloe says. “I think he’s considering it.”

Zach laughs. He’s got Alex snuggled up against him, he’s surrounded by his friends, and he’s feeling better.

Still. _Six fucking weeks_.

* * *

It’s not the end of the world, Zach decides after a sleepless night. He’s faced much, much worse. In comparison, this is a minor inconvenience. A different type of person would feel like he didn’t deserve this, too. Hasn’t he been through enough already? Why can’t things go his way for once? But not Zach. Zach has learned that he’s stronger than he ever thought he could be. That he doesn’t break easily. That things will get better.

So, he shows up for practice even though he can’t play because it’s still his team. He sits on the bench and watches his teammates train. He lifts weights in the gym and does crunches and sit ups.

He focuses on school. He ignores the bullies. He spends as much time as possible with Alex. He goes out with his friends and plans the perfect New Year’s Eve with them.

* * *

He does everything right.

He still gets a call from Stanford informing him they’ve decided to go in a different direction.

And it’s fucking _unfair_.

* * *

Alex is playing his guitar. His fingers can’t seem to get the F chord right, but it’s getting better. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but he’s quite sure it sounds better than it did last week. He glances at Zach, who’s sitting on the bed typing something on his phone, then back at the fingers of his left hand.

“What did they say anyway?” he asks. He keeps playing, but his attention is on his boyfriend now.

Zach frowns. “That they don’t want me anymore but wish me all the fucking best.”

“But did they say _why_?”

“No.” Zach drops his phone on the bed. He didn’t ask because it doesn’t matter. Whether it’s because he’s dating a guy or because he got hurt, the reason is the same: they think he’s _defective_ and so he’s not good enough for them. Knowing wouldn’t make him feel better anyway. “It’s fine. It was a long shot anyway.”

“It still sucks.”

Alex plays quietly for a couple of minutes. “So, Davis?” He tries not to sound too hopeful.

“I haven’t heard back from them, but Mark says they’re probably waiting to see how my ankle heals. He thinks I should focus on getting better and then invite them to come see me practice, or at least send them a video,” Zach says. He needs to prove to them that his ankle isn’t weak, that he won’t keep getting hurt. It won’t be easy since he doesn’t have a lot of time.

Alex sets down his guitar. He pushes himself up using the desk for support and walks the few steps to the bed. No cane. It’s a short distance and his balance is getting better. Today’s a good day. He sits down on the edge of the bed and rests his right hand on Zach’s knee.

“Zach?” Alex sighs. “Do you wanna tell me what’s going on inside your head? Then, later, when you go home, you can be Superman again. But do you want to tell me how you’re feeling? I know you don’t really talk about whatever’s bothering you and that’s fair. You don’t have to. I’m just saying you can.”

“I know I can talk to you,” Zach whispers. He looks down.

Alex nods. He doesn’t speak and gives Zach time instead. His fingers brush lightly against the fabric of Zach’s jeans.

“I feel stupid,” Zach admits eventually. “It was such a stupid mistake, Alex. I knew he was going to go left. I just… I couldn’t think. I don’t know how it was on the stands, but on the court, it was really bad. It felt like _they_ were the only ones there.”

“It’s not stupid. They’re jerks and they don’t matter, but what they say still fucking hurts.”

“Yeah.” Zach looks at him. “It’s a long list, at the moment, things that hurt: losing Stanford and maybe any chance at a scholarship, letting my team down, disappointing my mom. I’m trying to fix it but I don’t know how. So I figured, maybe if I work my ass off it’s gonna be enough.”

It’s uncomfortable, being this vulnerable, even with Alex. His fingers brush over his boyfriend’s hand.

“I admire you, you know?” Alex says. “You keep going no matter what happens. When things don’t go your way, you don’t make excuses, you just work harder. I get angry and then I pretend I don’t care because I hope maybe it will hurt less that way, and so I sit on my ass and wallow in self-pity. But you? You look for a solution. You keep fighting. You don’t give up.” He speaks quietly but his words are charged with emotion. Empathy. Admiration. Love. “But just because you _can_ do it all alone, it doesn’t mean you have to. It’s okay to lean on me and our friends. Not just when things are unbearable and you don’t have a choice, but also when they’re just kind of hard.”

He moves a bit closer. Their bodies always fit well together. Their strengths and weaknesses do, too.

“It helps to talk about it,” Zach admits. Now that he’s managed to put how he’s feeling into words, it’s less scary. Less out of control. For the first time since the game, he truly feels like it’s going to be okay. _Somehow_. Whatever happens.

He reaches out and runs his fingers through Alex’s short hair. The blue is fading and it looks more like pale green at this point. They share a look, then Zach lays down on the bed and scoots over to make space for Alex.

“Tell me about Davis,” Zach says as soon as Alex is comfortably settled against his chest.

“We’ll be roommates, of course. It’s probably going to be a crappy room, but we won’t care because we’ll push the beds together and wake up next to each other every day,” Alex starts. “We’ll make new friends but we will also spend time together, just the two of us. And we will keep in contact with Jess, Justin, Clay and Chloe. You’ll get mad at me for leaving stuff everywhere, and I’ll get mad at you for eating all the cereal, but it’ll be okay because it’s going to be _our_ stuff and _our_ cereal.”

Zach closes his eyes. Alex keeps talking.

Both of them are smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like it's been forever since the last update. It takes me much longer to write angst than fluff. Next chapter should be up in a week or two. (Spoiler alert: my code name for it is Fluff Fest.)
> 
> If you want to talk about this fanfic, Zalex or 13RW, feel free to message me on [Tumblr](https://chiara-writes-zalex.tumblr.com).


	10. December (Part 2)

### XLII.

The first Christmas Alex remembers is when he was four years old. He remembers the lights, the laughs, the presents (the excitement of opening them, not what was inside), his brother playing with his new dinosaur (a red Tyrannosaurus Rex that was the source of a lot of fights between the two of them over the following few months). He remembers the whole family being there.

Years later, he found out they actually celebrated Christmas one day early that year because his mom had to work four consecutive 12-hour shifts starting on the 25th.

Their family celebrated a lot of holidays early or late. It never mattered. They celebrated them together. Time is relative, love isn’t.

Then, three years ago, they didn’t celebrate it at all: Nana had passed away only a week before and nobody was in a festive mood.

Two years ago, they were supposed to have Christmas lunch on the 28th but there was an emergency at the hospital and, by the time Carolyn got home, Peter had already left to spend New Year’s out of town with his friends.

And last year… well, Alex doesn’t remember much. He slept through most of it and was in a bad mood when he was awake. He thought his parents were trying too hard. He felt there was too much pressure on him to be healthy and happy in time for the holidays. He was angry at Peter for not visiting more often. He was miserable and hell-bent on making sure everyone else was, too.

So this year they’re all working a bit harder than usual to make it special. Bill and Carolyn both managed to get the day off for the first time in six years. Peter has come home early. The house is decorated and smells like pine tree and gingerbread cookies. And Alex, well, Alex is _happy_. He smiles easily, doesn’t look for a fight with Peter, and even manages to keep the sarcasm to a minimum. (His biting comment on Peter’s Christmas sweater doesn’t count because anybody who wears something that ugly is looking for humiliation.)

It’s not Hallmark card perfect. It doesn’t make up for the last three years. But it feels like closing a bad chapter to start a new, better one.

* * *

Every family has its own traditions and the Dempseys have plenty of their own: decorating the tree, the wrapped apples on Christmas Eve, opening presents on Christmas morning before breakfast. And then there is one that is only Zach and May’s. Every year, early on Christmas morning, May sneaks into Zach’s bedroom, wakes him up, and they watch old cartoons together.

It started when May was two and half years old and cartoons were a distraction from the presents they weren’t allowed to open until their parents woke up. They’re both too old now to be so excited about Christmas gifts that they can’t sleep, but they haven’t outgrown watching cartoons together.

They’re watching _Scooby-Doo_ this year. May keeps messing with Zach’s hair, sweeping it into his eyes. He retaliates by tickling her. She giggles and jumps out of his reach, only to slowly inch back closer to him a minute later. It goes on for a while until Zach pulls her into a hug instead of tickling her.

She wraps her arms around his waist and looks up at him. “I love you, Zach.”

“I love you, too.”

Zach smiles and kisses the top of her head. Then, he starts mercilessly tickling her.

Every other tradition feels bittersweet ever since their dad died. It’s a way to remember him, but it’s also a sharp reminder of how much they lost. He’s present and absent at the same time and with the same intensity.

Christmas morning cartoons are the only tradition he was never a part of, and therefore the only moment they can fully enjoy. It’s simple and carefree. It’s not just an hour of silly cartoons and teasing each other. It’s what kept them from falling apart last year. It’s what will give them the strength to smile later today when they’re sitting around the table with the rest of the family and a chair is missing.

* * *

“What you need to know about Christmas, is that we celebrate it without celebrating it,” Clay told Justin a few weeks ago.

The Jensens are not religious. Christmas isn’t a big deal. There’s no tree, no presents, no big meal.

“Don’t you ever wish your family celebrated it in a more traditional way?” Hannah asked him once.

“Not really,” Clay replied honestly. “I get the fun family time without all the stress.”

They eat take-out food on the couch and play heated games of Trivial Pursuit. (Up until he was a teenager, Clay only heard his parents fight when they were playing on Christmas day. His mom is extremely competitive, and his father cares about being right about literature and history more than a normal human being should.)

“Winning gives you bragging rights for the rest of the year. Also, you get to pick the movie that day,” Clay explained.

A late-afternoon trip to the cinema is another family tradition. Last year, Clay won the game and they all watched _Star Wars: The Last Jedi_. This year, he wants to see _Bumblebee_.

On Christmas morning, there’s a full spread waiting for Justin and Clay on the kitchen table. Clay promptly sits down and bites into a cinnamon roll. Justin stands by the door for a few moments, taking it all in. So this is how Christmas with family feels like.

“No pancakes this year?” Clay asks as Justin takes a seat in between him and Matt.

“They’re coming,” Lainie replies. She flips one. “I’m making plain ones, but I can add blueberries or chocolate chips if you want.”

“Both, please,” Clay says. “Justin, you have to try them.”

“Alright,” Justin says, still amazed. Sometimes he wonders if Clay realizes how much he takes for granted. He also wonders if there will come a day when he does, too. Maybe, he decides, looking at Lainie. He smiles. “This is fucking amazing.”

“I hope you’re all ready to see _Bumblebee_ tonight,” Clay says.

“I think you mean _Holmes & Watson_,” Matt counters.

Lainie places two perfect pancakes on Clay’s and Justin’s plates. “Keep dreaming, darling. You haven’t picked the movie since 2012 when I _let_ you win. We’re watching _The Grinch_ tonight.”

Justin knows he has no chance of winning a game of Trivial Pursuit against his family of nerds, but he feels like a winner anyway. The best part is playing.

They eat too much Chinese food. Clay tries to cheat at Trivial Pursuit. Justin teases Lainie for brandishing the rule book and talking like a lawyer. Matt gives long-winded lectures every time anyone answers a literature question, and Clay and Justin throw popcorn kernels at him when he does. Clay wins. Once they get to the cinema, he buys four tickets to see _Robin Hood_ , because he remembers Justin mentioning it a few days ago. During the movie, he and Justin challenge each other to steal their parents’ popcorn without them noticing.

It’s not the most traditional Christmas day, but it’s the best one Justin can imagine and the only one Clay ever wanted.

 

 

### XLIII.

Three days later, in the afternoon, they all meet at the Jensens’ house to load the cars. They all packed light and their bags fit comfortably in the trunks of Clay’s and Zach’s cars. There’s even room for Alex’s guitar on top. Finding enough space for all the food is proving more difficult. Their parents seem to be under the impression that there are no grocery stores in Mendocino.

“It’s nice to know our parents think we are completely useless in the kitchen,” Jess says, looking at the piles of aluminum foil pans containing pre-cooked meals.

“To be fair, they might have a point,” Clay argues.

Jess laughs at that. “Yeah, true.”

They end up loading all the food in the back seat of the Prius; Chloe and Justin secure it in place.

“We’re only stopping once in about an hour and a half from now,” Clay announces as he gets into the driver’s seat. “You’ve been warned, so no bitching about it in forty minutes.”

Justin gets comfortable in the seat next to him. “Relax, Clay. We’re on holiday. We’ll get there when we get there. We’re not on a schedule.”

“And it’s a good thing we’re not because otherwise we’d be two hours behind schedule,” Clay says. “Not that I’m keeping track of that.”

“Clearly.”

“Fuck off.” Clay tries not to laugh but fails. “I’d just like to get there before dark, that’s all.”

“We will if you let me set the pace,” Jess says, fiddling with Zach’s car key.

“No way.”

Jess sighs. “Just don’t drive like an 80-year-old.”

“I’m not promising anything.”

Jess laughs, then she gets into the other car and starts the engine. Zach and Alex are already settled in the back and Chloe, sitting up front, is fastening her seatbelt.

As Jess follows Clay’s car down the road, Alex connects his phone to the car audio system and the first notes of Pink Floyd’s _Echoes_ start playing.

“Can we listen to something made this millennium?” Chloe asks, perfectly aware that Alex won’t like it.

“We could, but why settle for anything less than perfect?” Alex counters predictably.

“Excuse me!” Jess screams. “Did you just say Rihanna and Lorde aren’t _perfect_?”

“I stand by what I said.” Alex turns the volume up.

“That’s it. I’m calling Clay.” Chloe pulls out her phone.

It’s Justin who answers. “Clay says we’re not stopping for another hour and twenty minutes and that’s, err, non-negotiable,” he says. Then, speaking to Clay, he adds, “Dude, seriously? _Chill_.”

“Put him on speaker,” Chloe says. She waits for Justin to do so, then she goes on to ask, “Clay, how do you like really old music?”

“It’s okay, I guess? I’m kinda used to it because of Tony,” Clay replies, not really understanding why Chloe couldn’t wait till they got there to ask him that.

“That’s great. Pull over.”

They are already late and stopping before they have even left Crestmont is not on the schedule, but Clay pulls over anyway. Because he’s _not_ uptight. Luckily, it’s a quick stop. Five minutes later, they’re already back on the road. Sitting next to Clay, Alex is jokingly complaining about having been kicked out of his boyfriend’s car while he fiddles with the USB port to connect his phone to the stereo. In the other car, Chloe and Jess sing along to Rihanna’s _Anti_ , while Justin and Zach talk quietly in the back seat.

* * *

They stop twice more on the way and avoid speeding, so it’s dark when they get there. It’s a modern two-story house with five bedrooms. The kitchen has a table that sits eight, and the well-lit living room comes with comfortable couches and a large TV. Glass sliding doors open to a well-kept backyard with a fire pit, an empty swimming pool, and a hot tub.

“Does your dad know we would have been happy with a one-room apartment with a couple of mattresses on the floor?” Alex asks, looking around.

“I _told_ him to look for something crappy. So disappointing, right? Parents never listen.” Jess laughs, then pulls her jacket tighter around her. “It’s cold, though. It must be 50° here. The house has been closed for a couple of weeks, but someone was supposed to come and turn the heating on. They must have forgotten.”

“I think I’ve seen a thermostat in the kitchen,” Zach says. He looks at Alex. “Come with me to check it out?”

Alex nods and follows him to the kitchen while their friends go back outside to unload the cars.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks once they’re alone. They’re standing in front of the thermostat, and Zach is looking at the display. Alex places his hand on the small of his back.

“A bit stiff and sore from the drive over, but it’s not too bad.” Zach turns to look at him. “How about you? Are you okay?”

“More than okay.” Alex smiles. He wraps his arms around Zach’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder. The fabric of Zach’s jacket is cold against his cheek. He closes his eyes. “I’m kind of tired, though. I didn’t sleep much last night.”

Zach runs his fingers through Alex’s hair – bleach blond again, which is strange and familiar at the same time. “Anxiety?”

“Yeah.” Alex leans into Zach’s touch, then opens his eyes to look up at him. “I’m feeling better now that we’re here, though.”

“You sure?”

“I am. I’m feeling good. Being with you, with them… I’m really good.” Alex doesn’t break eye contact. “But I won’t say no to one of your hugs after we’ve set the thermostat to a temperature suited to human survival.”

Zach punches a few buttons until the temperature is set at a comfortable 72°. “Easy enough,” he says.

Before he has a chance to pull Alex into a hug, their friends arrive carrying grocery bags and stacks of pre-cooked meals.

“Alex, your mom is so sweet. Look, she wrote oven time and temperature on heart-shaped sticky notes,” Jess says. “When I asked, my mom just said to put them in the oven until they’re warm enough. Which I think was her way of saying she had no idea.”

“Or maybe she has more faith in our ability to figure it out,” Alex says. He’s placing one box of cereal after another – five in total – on a shelf.

Chloe smiles at the words written in all-caps on top of one of the meals Mr. Jensen cooked for them: _DO NOT MICROWAVE THIS, JUSTIN_. “This weekend, Justin, you’re learning how to use a regular oven. Maybe even the stove.”

Justin is tossing soda cans to Zach, who’s lining them up on the top shelf of the fridge. “That sounds pretty fucking advanced, but we can try,” he says. “You guys should have brought beer for the party. I’m okay. Like, you guys can drink when we’re together. It’s only hard for me if it’s a stressful situation so I would’ve been okay here. And, I mean, your brother would have gotten it for you, right Alex?”

“I doubt it. And we don’t need it, anyway.”

“After what happened last year, I’m actually glad that you guys don’t drink,” Chloe says.

Jessica nods. “Me, too.”

“I don’t need to drink to have fun with you.” Zach closes the fridge, grabs his crutch and goes to stand behind Alex. He drapes his arm across his collarbone and pulls him closer until Alex’s back is pressed against his chest. Not the hug he promised him, but it’s a start.

“I don’t even like beer,” Clay says. “I think I’ll be a wine guy in college.”

“A _wine_ guy?” Justin shakes his head. “When I come to visit you, please don’t introduce me as your brother.”

“I’ll make you a t-shirt. _Wine Guy’s Little Brother_.”

Justin laughs and punches him lightly on the shoulder. “Asshole. I’ll write _I’m Adopted_ on the back.”

Instead of laughing it off, Clay looks at him. His tone is light like they’re still joking, but his eyes are serious. “It doesn’t make you any less of my brother.”

Justin’s expression softens, eyes brimming with tears. He blinks a couple of times, lowering his head to hide his emotions. “You’re still an asshole,” he mutters.

Clay pats his back awkwardly. He clears his throat as if to say something, but then he catches Jess’s eye. She gives him a look, nodding at Justin; Clay gets the hint and hugs him, mumbling something under his breath.

“Show of hands: who’s hungry?” Chloe asks before the silence becomes uncomfortable. Six hands go up. She turns on the oven. “Vegetarian lasagna okay for everyone?”

“Sounds good. We should settle in while it warms up,” Jess says.

Zach and Alex take the ground floor bedroom, while the others head upstairs. Jess takes Justin’s hand and leads him into the first room on the right. Clay and Chloe open the doors of the other three bedrooms: one has bunk beds and a colorful train with huge eyes and a bright smile painted on the wall, while the other two have queen-size beds. They look identical – same bed, same closet, same dresser, same light curtains – except for the color: one is pale yellow, the other baby blue.

“Your pick,” Clay says.

“Yellow. You can have the one with the giant train that stares at you all night if you want.”

Clay smiles. “As much as I’d love to spend the night being creeped out by a cartoon train, I’ll take the blue one. It wouldn’t feel right to have all the fun without you guys.”

“So thoughtful.” Chloe closes the door of the room with the train. She looks at Clay, then locks it. “Just in case they put some clowns or old dolls on the shelves somewhere.”

Downstairs, in the meantime, Zach is standing by the window talking to his mother on the phone. Alex, lying in bed on top of the covers with his eyes closed, is listening to his voice. He doesn’t move when Zach, still on the phone, sits down on the other side of the bed. But, when he feels Zach’s hand on his shoulder, squeezing it gently, he smiles.

“Bye, Mom. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Zach sets his phone on the nightstand, then turns to Alex, curled up on his side in the middle of the bed. His thumb moves in lazy circles on his shoulder. “Are you feeling okay?”

Alex opens his eyes to look at him. He nods. “Just tired,” he says. “For real,” he adds a few seconds later since Zach still looks worried. “I promise I only need to sleep.”

“Alright.” Zach moves to lie down next to him. He kisses his forehead, his nose (so cold!), the corner of his mouth. Their fingers lace together. Alex smiles. His features are relaxed. The lump of fear in Zach’s chest melts away. “Yeah, you’re good.”

“More than good.”

“I think it’s the hair,” Zach says. He runs his hand over his head. “It reminds me of last year.”

“Shit. Sorry. I didn’t even think about it. I can—"

“No. I like it. You look good.” Zach’s hand settles on the nape of his neck, fingers playing with the short hair there. He kisses him softly. “You’re beautiful.” Another kiss. “You look so… _you_. Not you from last year. More like, you from when I met you. When you smiled and laughed. Before, you know, before everything. Only, it’s a new version of you. Stronger. Older.”

It’s Alex’s turn to kiss him now. “It’s what I was going for.” He smiles, then kisses him again.

They’re interrupted by a light knock on the door, followed by Justin’s voice. “Dinner’s ready in five so stop making out.”

“Be right there!”

Zach looks at his boyfriend and rubs his neck gently. “Do you want to stay here? Take a power nap, join us later? We’ll save you some lasagna. Or I could stay here with you—”

“No, I’m fine. I’ll sleep in tomorrow morning.”

They unlace their fingers and sit up. Zach’s hair is sticking up and Alex reaches over to smooth it down. Zach’s hand circles his wrist and gently pulls him into a hug. Alex buries his face against his chest and slips his arms inside the jacket Zach’s still wearing and around his waist. Zach’s arms are strong, a welcome pressure on his back.

“I didn’t forget you asked for a hug earlier,” Zach whispers. “And you can have more later.”

Alex takes a deep breath, then another. When he pulls away, he feels like his energy levels went up, as if Zach’s hugs have the power to recharge his batteries somehow. He’s still sleepy, but he’s not as tired. “Dinner then more hugs. It sounds good.”

They join their friends in the living room. Jess is starting a fire in the fireplace while Justin and Clay rearrange the couches around it. The temperature is going up now that the heating is turned on, but the house is big and it’s going to take a few hours before it warms up.

“Anything I can do? I’m feeling pretty useless at the moment,” Zach says lightly.

Justin pats his back on his way to the kitchen. “Well, tough. Make yourself comfortable on the couch and let us take care of you for once.”

If it was anybody else, Zach would find it hard, maybe impossible. But after all they’ve been through, individually and as a group, they’ve learned how to be there for each other and how to accept help and support.

He takes a seat and lays his crutch down on the floor.

“Be right back,” Alex says before making his way to the bathroom.

Jessica is sitting on a pillow on the floor to be closer to the fireplace. She turns her back to the fire to look at him and reaches out to rest her hand on his knee. “You okay? You’ve been quiet all day.”

“I’m okay,” Zach says. “I was worried about Alex but he’s just tired.”

She nods. “That’s good. I was getting worried, too. I was gonna talk to him.”

“He’s okay,” he repeats. Maybe for her sake, maybe for his own.

“I know we don’t talk a lot, you and I, and I know you don’t like to talk about your feelings. But the last few weeks must have been really hard for you between those jerks at school, your injury and the holidays.” Jess rubs his knee. “I’m here if you need to talk about all or some of it. Or just let me know if you want me to give you a hug, or bring you a heat pack for your ankle, or take May out for some girl time once we get back.” She pauses. “I guess I’m telling you what a lot of people were telling me last year: I’d like to help, I don’t know how, so just let me know if there’s something I can do.”

Zach rests his hand on top of hers. “Thank you. I feel lucky to be your friend, you know? And yeah, the last few weeks have been tough, but being here with you guys helps a lot.”

She smiles. “I wish we could move here, just us, and not deal with the world, like, ever again.”

“If only.”

* * *

When they asked their parents permission to spend a few days away from Crestmont, they all had to promise they would call home at least once a day. Zach and Chloe did it before dinner; the others sent texts to confirm they got there safe but postponed the actual phone call.

So, after dinner and after cleaning up—which, really, only took a few minutes since there were no leftovers and they used paper plates—they decide to call their parents. Zach, Chloe, and Justin pass a tennis ball they found under one of the couches between them, while the other three reassure their parents that they are okay and they are being responsible.

“Mom wants to talk to you now,” Clay says after a few minutes.

Justin throws the ball to Zach, then takes Clay’s phone. He speaks quietly, his voice softer than usual. “She told me to keep an eye on you,” he says, smiling, once the phone call is over.

“Don’t flatter yourself. She told _me_ to keep an eye on _you_ ,” Clay replies. “And technically I’m responsible for you since you’re not 18 yet.”

“You mean if I get in trouble, it’s your fault?” Justin teases.

“I mean, if you get in trouble, I’ll kill you.”

Justin smiles confidently. “No, you won’t.”

“No, I won’t.” Clay sighs but looks at him fondly.

“So, that was unnecessarily drawn-out and painful,” Alex declares after saying goodnight to his parents. “I get it that they worry and that I’m lucky they even agreed to let me come, but they need to chill.”

Zach catches a pass from Chloe, then throws the ball to Clay. He pulls Alex into a hug.

“Do we even know where this thing comes from?” Clay wonders, looking at the tennis ball suspiciously.

Justin shrugs. “Who gives a shit? It’s a tennis ball. It’s not like we’re gonna eat it.”

Clay shakes his head. He passes the ball to Chloe.

Jessica finally sets her phone aside and sighs theatrically.

“And, once again, the winner for Longest Call of the Day is—” Alex makes a dramatic pause. Justin drums his hands on his thighs for added effect. “—the lovely Jessica Davis.”

Jessica stands up and takes a bow. “As always, I’d like to thank my parents for treating me like I’m twelve years old. I couldn’t have done it without them.”

They all laugh as she curls back up on the couch next to Justin. “My dad asked me about a thousand questions about how we got here: which route, did we have to stop for gas, did the weather hold. And then my mother wanted to make sure I brought tampons in case I get my period early. And, like, thanks Mom, but I’ve been handling it just fine on my own for the past five years. Also, it’s not like they don’t sell tampons here.”

“You guys are adorable when you’re uncomfortable because we talk about our periods,” Chloe says.

“We’re not—” Alex starts.

Clay interrupts him. “Yes. Yes, we are. We are uncomfortable, and we’re sorry we’re not more evolved than that but we can’t help it.”

The girls look at each other and laugh.

* * *

In the dark of their bedroom, Zach moves his hand slowly up and down Alex’s arm. They are warm and cozy in bed, between the extra blanket on top of the thick comforter and the heat coming from their bodies.

Zach presses a kiss to the nape of Alex’s neck. “Warm enough now?”

Alex hums his agreement. He’s still not the biggest fan of hugging while sleeping, but spooning with Zach is wonderful, especially in winter. He’d be an idiot to miss this opportunity. “This feels fucking good.”

“So you think you’re gonna be able to sleep okay?”

“Definitely.”

Another small kiss. “Good.”

Alex smiles. “This is so much better than talking on the phone before bed.”

“This could be every night next year.” Zach keeps stroking Alex’s arm.

“Unless we have to, you know, actually study for exams and shit, and collapse into bed at two in the morning still in our clothes.”

“Don’t ruin it.”

Alex laughs softly. “Alright, no reality check tonight.”

They fall into a comfortable silence. As Alex’s breathing and heartbeat slow down to a more even rhythm, Zach’s cuddles also fade into smaller gestures until they stop altogether when he, too, falls asleep.

 

 

### XLIV.

Clay and Justin are sitting at the table in front of two empty cups and a box of cereal when Zach walks in the kitchen the next morning.

“Someone got lucky last night,” Justin says instead of _Good morning_. He smiles.

“How d’you—?” Zach shakes his head. _Of course_ Justin can tell. Justin could always tell. “I didn’t actually. I got lucky this morning.”

He pops a couple of slices of bread in the toaster, starts the coffee, then leans against the counter.

Clay glances at the door. “Is Alex okay? Like, can he get up or did you—”

“Or what?” Zach laughs. “We had sex, I didn’t break him. He’s fine. He’s in the shower.”

“You’ve been watching too much porn,” Justin decides. “Sex can be gentle, you know?”

Clay gives an exasperated sigh. “ _I know_.”

“Just checking.”

Justin sticks his hand in the box of Cheerios. He munches them while Zach butters his toast.

“What about you and Jess?” Zach asks once he’s sitting at the table with toast, yogurt, a banana, two of Carolyn’s gluten-free blueberry muffins, a cup of coffee and a glass of orange juice in front of him.

Justin drops his head on the table with a groan. “We had sex last night and then we talked for a while and it was fine, but when it was time to sleep, she freaked out. She spent the night with Chloe. I sat outside their bedroom for a while last night—”

“Like a creep,” Clay interjects as he puts his hand on his brother’s back.

“Like someone who cares and who was fucking worried. She was crying, but then she stopped and they talked for a while. I think she was okay in the end.” Justin runs a hand through his hair then rests it over his eyes. “I hate hurting her and I fucking hate that sometimes I can’t fucking help her.”

“You’re being too hard on yourself, JJ,” Clay says.

Justin shakes his head.

“Clay’s right. You are,” Zach says. “You didn’t do anything wrong last night. And, yeah, it sucks that you couldn’t help her but the important thing is she was okay.”

“She trusts you or she wouldn’t even have been in that room with you,” Clay adds. “Give her time.”

Zach eats a muffin in two bites. “And maybe ask _her_ how to help her. Like, sometimes Alex has bad days. I’d like to say that I magically knew from the start how to make him feel better but I didn’t. It’s not a fucking romantic movie. It’s real life. I had no idea. But I asked him, we talked about it, and now I know how to help him through it.”

Justin nods. He looks less miserable. “Thanks, guys.”

* * *

Half an hour later, Chloe joins the boys in the kitchen. Alex, a cup of coffee in hand, sits slumped against Zach’s shoulder; Clay and Justin are crouched in front of the dishwasher with a puzzled look on their faces as if they were looking at alien technology.

“Morning,” she says. She quickly makes her way across the kitchen to get to Justin. She bends over. “Jess is right behind me. She’s okay now but you should talk to her. She plans on acting like last night never happened. I told her it was a bad idea but she won’t listen so I hope maybe you will.”

Justin nods gratefully. “I’ll talk to her.”

“There’s still some coffee left and Alex’s mom’s muffins are really good,” Zach says when they hear footsteps approaching.

Jess comes into the kitchen wearing leggings, an oversized wool sweater, and a smile. “Good morning, guys!”

While Jess pours herself a cup of coffee, Chloe sits next to Zach with milk and cereal and looks at Justin and Clay. “Please tell me you have used a dishwasher before.”

Clay scratches his head. “Sure. Once or twice.”

“Not really,” Justin shamelessly admits. He leaves Clay alone to figure it out and gets closer to Jessica.

She puts her arms around his neck and leans in for a kiss. “Hey. Good morning to you.”

“Hey. Are you okay?” he asks quietly.

“I’m good.” She smiles.

Justin can tell she’s not lying, that she actually is fine right now, but it still feels like there is this unspoken thing between them. Right now, though, with all their friends there, is not the right moment to talk about it. “Good,” he says. He kisses her softly, then just holds her for a few moments.

* * *

“Chloe and I are going downtown for a walk,” Jess announces after breakfast. “Who wants to come? We’ll get fresh bread and some more milk, and probably check out the shops.”

“Hard pass on the shops, but I’ll come along for the walk,” Justin says.

Clay shrugs. “I’m good here on the couch. I’ve got a book.”

Zach looks at Alex. “Do you feel up for a walk?”

“I do, but do _you_?”

“Yeah. At this point, it’s actually worse if I stay still for too long. Plus, no way I’m spending four days cooped up inside,” Zach says. “I probably shouldn’t walk all the way there, though. How about we take my car, park it somewhere in town and then walk around for a little bit? You can drive.”

Alex lights up. “For real?”

“Yeah. Like you said so, _so_ many times: it’s an automatic.” Zach smiles. “Anybody wants a ride?”

“I have complete faith in Alex’s driving ability, but I need a walk,” Jess says.

“Yeah. Me, too.”

Chloe pokes Clay’s arm. “Come with us. I don’t mind being the third wheel, but it’s more fun when I’ve got Mr. Fourth Wheel to talk to.”

“I’ll go get my shoes,” Clay says. He’ll read his book once they’re back home. It would be stupid to sit on the couch alone while his friends are together having fun. “Are we third- and fourth-wheeling Zach and Alex or the Js?”

They share a look. It’s probably best not to leave Jess and Justin alone until they’ve put last night behind them.

“The weather’s nice,” Chloe says. “I wouldn’t mind walking. What do you think?”

“Yeah, a walk sounds nice actually,” Clay agrees.

Jess kisses Alex on the cheek. “See you guys there.”

* * *

_Fuck, it feels good._

It’s been over a year since Alex last drove a car and he missed it. So. Fucking. Much.

“So, apparently, driving a car is like riding a bike,” he says, sneaking a glance at Zach.

“Eyes on the road,” Zach reminds him. “And maybe slow down a bit?”

“I thought you trusted me?” Alex says, taking mock offense. He’s smiling too much to be even remotely believable in his outrage.

Zach doesn’t take his eyes off him. He doesn’t want to miss one second of Alex’s happiness. “I trust you. And you’re doing great,” he says.

Their house is just outside of town, so it’s a short drive. Once the car is ( _fucking flawlessly_ , as Alex points out) parked on the side of the road, they slowly walk down the street holding hands, Alex leaning onto his cane for balance and Zach letting his crutch take some of his weight off his ankle.

“We look fucking pathetic,” Alex says, sounding amused.

Zach smiles. “We look like we were in an accident together. Or maybe like we met in PT.”

“It’s gonna be one of the best things about next year. We’ll spend our days surrounded by people who don’t know anything about all the shit that happened last year. We won’t be the kids on the tapes anymore. I won’t be the boy who tried to shoot himself.”

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Zach says.

They turn left and make their way to the small café designated as the rendezvous point with their friends. While they wait for their coffees, Zach takes a few pictures of Alex.

“I’m Instagramming this,” he says, showing Alex his phone.

“We should post a picture of us. I mean, maybe?” Alex looks at him, a bit uncertain. “Only if you want to. I guess I just hate that the only picture of us people have seen is _that_ one, you know?”

Zach nods. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s do it.”

“Hashtag We-Don’t-Give-A-Fuck?”

They smile at each other, then at the camera.

* * *

Jessica takes Justin’s hand as they walk down the quiet streets of the town. Justin will never understand how such a simple gesture can make his heart beat faster. Not that he would ever admit it out loud.

She looks radiant in the morning light, her smile bright, any trace of the panic from last night gone. It makes it at once easier and harder to bring it up. “Jess? I want to talk about last night. We don’t have to do it now if you don’t want to. We can do it whenever you want. Later, tomorrow, when we’re back home. No pressure. But I don’t want to pretend like it never happened,” he says softly.

Her smile fades into a serious expression. “I know.” She looks at their hands, then straight ahead. “I just don’t know what to say because I don’t have any answers. It’s not something you did. I don’t know why it happened.”

_Trauma_. That’s why it happened. Justin is all too familiar with it. “Is there something I can do for you when it happens? I’m fucked up, too, Jess. I know some shit takes a long time to heal or maybe it never does. I know I can’t fix it for you. I just want to know if there’s anything I can do to make it… easier.”

Jess holds his hand tighter. “I wish I knew, Justin. But I want to try again, if you want?”

“Of course. And maybe together we can figure it out?”

“We do make a good team,” she says. She smiles again, only a little more tentatively than before.

“The fucking best.” Justin smiles, too. “Just don’t tell Zach. He’s competitive.”

She laughs. “Are you saying you and your _best friend_ would make a better team?”

“Should I remind you that _your_ best friend is your _ex-boyfriend_?”

“Oh, we’re joking about that now?” Jess smiles at him. “Well, since we’re talking about how messy our relationships are, let me point out that my best friend slash ex-boyfriend is dating your best friend. At least my other best friend is not dating your other best friend slash brother.”

Justin can’t help but laugh. “It sounds so fucked up when you put it like that. Promise me you won’t dump me for your other best friend?”

“I don’t know. She is prettier than you.” Jessica giggles when she sees Justin pout. “Alright, I promise. I mean, I _kind of_ like you, after all.”

“I kind of like you, too. Like, a fucking lot.” Justin looks at her and smiles.

 

 

### XLV.

“Never Have I Ever—” Clay thinks about it for a moment. “—been on a varsity team.”

Justin, Chloe, Zach, and Jessica groan and raise their hands. Clay smiles, pleased with himself, and adds a small _x_ next to their names on the scoreboard. The two people with the most points at the end of the night will have to cook breakfast for everyone tomorrow morning.

“That’s not a very smart tactic, Clay. Do you really want _me_ to make breakfast?” Justin argues.

“For the record, I’m a shit cook, too,” Alex says.

“Nice try,” Chloe says. “Never Have I Ever kissed a girl.”

“C’mon! Fuck!” Justin complains as everyone but Chloe raises their hands. He quickly turns to look at Jessica. “Oh, _do_ tell.”

“Why do _I_ have to tell?” Jessica laughs. “Hannah. It was a friend thing. And a couple of girls at my old school. _Not_ a friend thing.” It’s her turn now: Clay and Chloe need to pay for the last two questions. “Never Have I Ever _not_ cheated on a test.”

Clay and Chloe take a point each.

“ _Never_?!” Justin looks at them in disbelief. “Like, fucking never? Not even once?”

Clay shrugs; Chloe sits up straighter, proud of herself. “Not even once.”

“Un-fucking-believable.” Justin looks at the scoreboard. “Sorry, Zach, but you’ve got like three points and we all have more than seven. Never Have I Ever watched _My Little Pony_ instead of going to a party.”

“Okay, first of all, I watched it because May wanted to,” Zach says. “And second—”

“Just take your point like a man.”

“Fine.” Zach sighs. He looks at Justin. “You’re paying for this one. Never Have I Ever tried to make out with a pillow.”

Justin laughs and throws an empty paper cup at Zach. “Fuck you. I was drunk.”

“And I was babysitting.” Zach hits Justin with a pillow.

“Ah, can you feel the bromance in the air?” Jess says with a smile as Zach and Justin keep throwing random objects at each other.

Alex moves closer to Clay to avoid being hit by mistake. “Well, sorry girls but I for one would love an amazing breakfast tomorrow morning and it’s only going to happen if you two lose. Never Have I Ever gone to school in a skirt.”

“Alexander Dean Standall! How dare you!” Jess cries outraged. He just laughs.

Clay updates the scoreboard. “I’m with Alex. I’d much rather have Jess make me breakfast than Justin. But I also have to agree with Justin that Zach cannot win this easily. Never Have I Ever kissed Alex.”

“Worth it,” Zach says. He pulls Alex closer for a kiss.

“I’m getting payback for this, Clay,” Jess tells him.

It’s Chloe’s turn. She thinks about it for a few seconds. They’ve all been through a lot. They have to be careful not to bring up any painful memories, but they can also relax because they trust everyone else to be mindful of their scars. They have learned how to tease each other without hurting each other, so they can all laugh about the jokes they make. “Never Have I Ever fallen asleep during Math class,” she says, looking at Justin.

“Guilty as charged,” Justin says, almost with pride.

“Yeah, I did that a couple of times, too,” Alex admits.

Jess rubs her hand together like a cartoon villain, ready to take her revenge on Alex and Clay. “Never Have I Ever faked being sick in order to skip P.E.”

The two boys resignedly raise their hands.

“Never Have I Ever been old enough to vote,” Justin says. He smiles proudly while Clay adds an _x_ next to everyone’s name except his and Jessica’s.

They keep playing. They come up with weird strategies and strike unlikely alliances; they tease each other and bring up funny and embarrassing episodes. They laugh a lot and get to know each other even better.

“Last round?” Clay asks when he realizes it’s getting late. They all agree.

He glances at the scoreboard. There’s no obvious winner at this point, although it’s very unlikely that Zach could be one of the losers. They made sure of it, while also avoiding being too obvious about it.

“Never Have I Ever _not_ had Alex’s mom make me breakfast more than twice in a row,” Zach says, making sure everyone gets an _x_ except for Alex and himself. He wants Alex in bed with him tomorrow morning.

Alex smiles and kisses his shoulder, then thinks of a statement that will achieve the same result as Zach’s: “Never Have I Ever _not_ done physical therapy.”

“What you guys are doing is unfair to those of us who are single, by the way. I’m going to stand up for Chloe and me,” Clay says. “Never Have I Ever had a first name that doesn’t start with C.”

“Thank you, Clay,” Chloe says. Maybe she should do the same, but there’s one thing that’s been on the tip of her tongue all night. It’s something she’s wanted to share with them with a while but it’s been hard to work it into a conversation. This is the perfect opportunity to say it without making a big deal out of it, which is the last thing she wants since she doesn’t even know exactly what it means. “Never Have I Ever wanted to have sex in the last six months.”

She watches as they all raise their hands and keeps hers folded in her lap. “Uh, I haven’t—since Bryce. Or, I don’t know, maybe I didn’t want to have sex with him either. I’m still figuring it out,” she admits. “Anyway, you all get a point except me.”

_Please don’t let it be awkward_ , she thinks just before Jess hugs her and Alex reaches over Clay to take her hand.

“If you wanna talk, I’m here,” he says.

“Thank you.” Chloe returns his grip and Jess’s hug. “Let’s keep playing.”

Jessica doesn’t let her go even as she takes the scoreboard from Clay to study it. With only two questions left, Justin is undoubtedly going to be the one with the most points, while Zach, Alex and Chloe are safe from having to make breakfast. It’s between her and Clay, and she doesn’t mind the idea of cooking breakfast with Justin. “Never Have I Ever had sex with Justin,” she says.

“Are you trying to _lose_ now?” Clay asks, confused.

She shrugs. Justin, instead, quickly realizes what she’s doing and smiles.

“Never Have I Ever been the most gorgeous and amazing girl Justin’s ever dated,” he says. “Clay, please add, like, a hundred points to Jess’s total.”

Jess flashes him a smile. “That might just get you laid.”

Clay takes the piece of paper back and adds up their points. “So, in first place we’ve got Zach,” he says a minute later.

“Yeah, don’t think I haven’t noticed what you guys did,” Zach says. “And thank you.”

“We have no idea what you mean, man,” Justin says.

“Chloe wins second place, Alex third. I’m in fourth place thanks to Justin messing with me for three rounds straight,” Clay says. “Which means Jess and Justin will make breakfast for everyone tomorrow.”

“Joke’s on you guys,” Justin says.

“I’ll cook, he cleans,” Jessica promises.

“Very well. Then I’d like pancakes. And I like my bacon crispy and my eggs runny,” Alex says.

“You can forget about eggs and bacon, but I’ll make you pancakes if you play a song for us?” Jess tells him, nodding at the guitar propped up against the wall.

Alex looks a bit uncertain. He decided to bring it along because he was proud of the progress he’s been making, but now that it’s time to play in front of them he feels self-conscious. “Alright,” he says after a few seconds. “But keep in mind that I’ve only been practicing for a few weeks. It still sounds like shit most of the time.”

“It really doesn’t,” Zach says. He reaches for the guitar and gives it to Alex.

Alex adjusts his posture to find a position that puts the least amount of stress on his left arm. He plays a couple of notes. His hand seems to be cooperating today. “Requests?”

“Play a Christmas song,” Jess says.

“ _Last Christmas_?”

“Ouch, Alex,” she says, but they both laugh. It’s good that they can finally joke it about it. “ _White Christmas_ , maybe?”

Alex smiles. “I play, you sing?”

She nods and he starts playing.

* * *

On Sunday, it rains all day.

After eating too many pancakes for breakfast, playing a long game of Monopoly, and eating a light lunch, they spread out in the living room. Jess sits by the window with a book; Chloe, Justin, and Clay play cards in front of the fireplace; and Zach and Alex snuggle up together on one of the couches for an afternoon nap.

“Comfortable?” Zach asks, pulling the blanket over their heads. They could go to their bedroom if they wanted to be alone, but it’s actually nice to hear their friends talk and laugh softly in the background.

Alex nuzzles Zach’s neck. “Yeah, you?”

“Yeah, can you just move your right leg a bit to the left? _Ouch—_ Your other left.”

“Shit, sorry.” Alex adjusts his position. “Like this?”

“Perfect.”

Alex strokes his arm. “You sure you don’t want a pillow for your ankle?”

“My ankle’s fine. So long as my boyfriend doesn’t kick me, that is.” Zach laughs softly.

“I’m sorry.” Alex nuzzles his neck again. He likes the soft hum in Zach’s throat his gesture elicits. “You should’ve given me better directions.”

Zach rubs Alex’s back in slow circles. “You should learn how to tell left from right. I can’t believe I let you drive my car.”

“And promised to let me drive it again soon,” Alex reminds him. “Mhm, this feels good. But I should be the one doing the cuddling.”

“I’m _fine_ , Alex. You’re the one who’s all wound up,” Zach snaps.

There’s a sharpness in Zach’s voice that betrays his feelings. Alex knows he’s worried: he hoped to be walking without crutches at this point, but his ankle still can’t take his full weight for more than a few steps. Alex also knows pushing him would only make things worse, so he softens his voice in response. “I’m okay. This weather fucks with my brain, that’s all.”

Zach keeps rubbing his back in silence for a few minutes. Alex wonders if he’s working through his feelings or just burying them deeper. Sadly, it’s probably the latter.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you,” Zach whispers eventually. “Can we drop this, at least for now?”

Alex sighs. “Yeah, we can drop this. But can I say just one thing first?”

“I know what you’re gonna say.”

“No, you don’t.” Alex pushes himself up with his right arm to look at him. It’s not the most comfortable position, but Zach is quick to support him. “You’re amazing and you’re so strong. I am fucking proud of you for keeping your head high, for facing those jerks every day, and for having such a positive attitude about your injury. I love you so fucking much. And none of that is going to change if you snap at me once in a while because you’re hurting, or if you allow yourself to show you’re struggling. And, also, I’m feeling strong and I can totally be there for you. You don’t need to protect me from your feelings,” he says. “Don’t say anything now. Just think about it, okay?” He waits for Zach to nod, then leans in for a soft kiss.

“I love you, too,” Zach whispers once Alex has settled back into his arms. “And I hear you.”

Alex closes his eyes. “Good. Because you worry about me, but I worry about you.”

“I know,” Zach says, instead of _You don’t need to worry about me_.

Alex takes it as a half-win.

* * *

Chloe gracefully lowers herself to the floor and sits cross-legged next to Jess. She’s holding two mugs of hot chocolate. “Okay if I sit here with you?”

“Always.” Jess repositions her blanket so it lays on Chloe’s legs as well as her own, then accepts the mug her friend is offering. “Especially when you bring hot chocolate.”

Chloe smiles. She sips at her hot chocolate, then rests her head on Jessica’s shoulder. “You and Justin were very _cuddly_ this morning at breakfast. I take it last night was good?”

“It was. We just talked for the longest time, and he was very sweet whenever I got anxious. Like, he made stupid jokes and silly faces to make me laugh. I don’t know what it means exactly, but I’m glad I finally spent the whole night with him. It feels like a step forward.”

“It _is_ ,” she says. “I’m happy for you guys and I’m proud of you.”

Jessica looks at the rain falling steadily outside. “What you said last night, do you want to talk about it?”

Chloe considers it, then shakes her head. “Not right now. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

* * *

When Zach and Alex wake up from their nap and Alex leaves the room to get himself a cup of coffee, Justin grabs a bag of popcorn and drops down on the floor next to the couch. Zach, still sprawled out on said couch, is scrolling through Instagram but puts his phone down as soon as he sees Justin. He sits up and leans over, reaching for the popcorn bag.

“Trouble in paradise?” Justin asks.

“No, we’re good,” Zach says. Then, because Justin keeps staring at him, he adds, “Alex is worried about me but he doesn’t need to be.”

“If you say so.”

“Not you, too.”

Justin munches on some popcorns. “You’re such an idiot sometimes, you know? I know you talk to him about stuff, so why not this? Just because we’ve all been through much worse, it doesn’t mean you can’t be upset about a sprained ankle. And you know what? If it was Clay, it wouldn’t matter much. He’d be in pain for a few days, need some help for a while, but it wouldn’t really matter. But he’s not the best player on the basketball team and he’s not trying to get an athletic scholarship. It’s a big fucking deal for you and no one here is going to think any less of you for being worried about it. And I’m gonna shut the fuck up now and I won’t bring it up again, but just—Don’t be a fucking idiot.”

Zach looks down at the floor. “When did you get so wise?”

“I think Clay is rubbing off on me.” Justin cracks a smile.

“I think that was all you.”

“Whatever.” Justin shrugs, then takes a popcorn kernel and throws it at him. Zach catches it with his mouth.

* * *

Clay has just made coffee when Alex walks into the room. Clay fills a second cup and sets them both on the table. “Everything okay?” he asks after they both took a seat.

Alex rubs at his eyes. “Why the fuck do I feel more tired after a nap than before it?”

“Irony?” Clay guesses.

“Ah, yes. The most fundamental law of the universe.”

Clay laughs softly.

Alex drinks his coffee in silence, lost in thought. When he speaks again, his voice is barely more than a whisper. “After I woke up from my coma, I felt so fucked up. I felt _broken_. My parents kept telling me I wasn’t but they also acted like I was. Zach was the only one who didn’t make me feel useless and pathetic. He was basically carrying me into the pool for the first few weeks, but he would always make a joke or something and he would make it okay. There were days when he was the only one who believed I could and would get better. I didn’t believe it, and neither did my parents even though they didn’t admit it, but he did.”

Clay listens, nodding along. He remembers what it was like. The doctors said the chances of Alex ever talking or walking again were slim and it wasn’t hard to believe them back then.

“Zach helped me so fucking much. Not just with PT or by being there, but also by believing in me,” Alex goes on. “So why doesn’t he let me help him now? Why does he suddenly think that I’m fucking weak and I’m gonna crumble if he leans on me? Why now? He usually talks to me. He _knows_ I can fucking take it. Or at least he’s supposed to know—”

“I’m probably the last one here you should be asking for relationship advice,” Clay says. “But if you want my most likely wrong opinion, I don’t think it’s about you.”

Alex sighs. “You think?”

“Yeah.”

“So what do I do? How much do I push?”

_Until you break down his walls_ , Clay wants to say. But that’s the part of him that lost Hannah speaking. The part of him that – gingerly, tentatively – helped Justin over the past months has a different opinion. “How worried are you?” he asks. “I mean, do you think he’s just having a few bad weeks or—?”

Alex looks at him dead serious. “Just a few bad weeks. He’s not—He’s fine.”

“Then don’t push too much, maybe?”

“You know, for someone who says is no good at relationship advice, you’re actually not bad at all.” Alex’s lips curve into a half-smile.

Clay finishes his coffee. “I’m here all week. Well, not literally. Just— _Whatever_.”

Alex laughs.

* * *

That night, they eat Lainie’s baked potatoes and the chocolate cake Jess and Chloe baked in the afternoon. The boys do the cleaning up, which takes far longer than it should, especially after Justin and Zach manage to turn it into a game. (Clay complains that the rules don’t make any sense but he and Alex still play along.)

They’re still laughing when they join the girls in the living room.

“Whatever you do—” Zach says.

“—don’t touch the spoons!” all four boys finish together before bursting out laughing.

Jess and Chloe look at each other, confused.

“What happened in that kitchen?”

“You don’t wanna know,” Alex says. He takes a seat in between Zach and Clay, while Justin claims the free spot next to Jessica on the other couch.

“While you guys did _whatever_ in the kitchen, Jess and I were looking up party games we can play,” Chloe says.

Jess nods. “Most are gross, require alcohol, or disregard the concept of consent altogether.”

“Sometimes all three,” Chloe adds. “Which is why we decided to make our own versions. For example, Hug Cuddle Kiss instead of Kiss Marry Kill.”

Justin scoffs. “That’s stupid. Jessica, Jessica, Jessica. Done.”

“You can only pick each person once,” Chloe says.

Alex thinks about it for a moment. “I would hug Clay, cuddle with Jess, and kiss Zach.”

“Excuse me?!” Zach’s tone is only mock-offended, but there’s a layer of truth in there because he removes his arm from around Alex’s shoulders and moves his body back.

“I can only do one out of three with you. Who else do you want me to kiss?” Alex argues. “What are _your_ choices?”

“I would hug Justin, _cuddle_ with you, and kiss Chloe,” Zach says.

Justin winces. “Bad move, man.”

“Un-fucking-believable!” Alex looks like he’s trying to decide if he should be angry or simply amused. “A kiss is far more intimate than cuddling. You can cuddle with a friend.”

Zach frames Alex’s face with his hands and leans in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “That’s the kind of kiss I’m thinking about, as opposed to two hours of cuddling like we did earlier today. Which one would you rather do with me?”

Alex rolls his eyes. “Well, when you put it like that, the cuddling, _duh_. But I was thinking of the kind of cuddles Jess and Chloe do all the time and the kind of kiss that leads to clothes being removed.”

“Yeah, I want to only kiss you that way, too,” Zach agrees. He slides his arm back around Alex’s shoulders and pulls him closer. Alex puts his head on his shoulder and casually rests a hand on his thigh.

“I agree with Alex on the kiss thing,” Jess says. “Which is why I would hug Alex, cuddle with Chloe, and kiss Justin.”

Justin smiles. “I’d kiss you right back. Actually, I _am_ gonna kiss you,” he says, before locking lips with her. “I would hug Clay, and cuddle with Zach because I’m totally comfortable with my sexuality and he’s supposed to be the Best Cuddler on the West Coast. Or so I’ve heard,” he adds with a smirk, referring to something Alex said a few days ago.

“I’ll allow it,” Alex concedes. “Chloe?”

“I would hug my girl Jess,” Chloe says. “I’d cuddle with Zach since he comes so highly recommended, and I would kiss Clay.”

Clay smiles awkwardly. “As the only single guy here, I appreciate it.”

Chloe would like to tell him that she did not pick him because the other three guys are taken, but she doesn’t because she’s afraid it would sound flirty and she only likes him as a friend. So, instead, she says, “Any girl—or guy—would be lucky to have you, Clay.”

“Thank—I mean—Thank you. And you. I mean, anyone would be lucky to have you,” Clay stammers.

“Smooth,” Justin chimes in, amused. He makes a mental note, not for the first time, to give Clay some pointers. If he can’t even talk to a girl he’s not interested in without getting embarrassed, he’s doomed to be single forever.

Clay shakes his head at Justin’s comment. He feels a bit self-conscious but definitely not uncomfortable because he’s with friends. “And I was gonna say I’d like to hug you. Since you’re being a jerk, I’ll hug Alex.”

“Always happy to be everyone’s second choice,” Alex says. His genuine smile lets his friends know that no feelings were hurt.

“Not mine,” Zach says. “You’re my first choice. Always will be.”

Alex’s smile grows wider and softer. He stares into Zach’s eyes for a few seconds, then cranes his neck up in a silent request for Zach to kiss him. Zach happily obliges.

It’s a quick kiss, there will be time for more passionate ones later once they’re alone in their bedroom. In the meantime, they interlace their fingers.

“Sorry for interrupting,” Alex says. “Go on, Clay.”

“As I was saying, I would hug Alex, cuddle with Zach, and kiss Chloe—as a friend. And only with her permission, of course,” Clay says.

“Permission granted.” Chloe smiles. “You can kiss me on the cheek tomorrow night at midnight while they all make out.”

“We’re not gonna make out,” Jess says. “We’re here to celebrate the new year as friends.”

“Agreed,” Alex says. “But can we please discuss how you all want to cuddle with my boyfriend? Because I’m not okay with that.”

Zach kisses his temple. “I thought cuddling was a friend thing,” he teases.

“I take it back.”

“Too late,” Justin says and they all laugh.

 

 

### XLVI.

To make up for the long hours spent inside the day before, on the 31st they light up the firepit in the back garden and have lunch outside, sitting on the semi-circular bench that surrounds it.

“You know how people always say they can’t believe the year’s already over?” Jess says at some point. “Well, I for one feel like 2018 has been fucking long and I’m glad it’s almost over.”

“It wasn’t all bad, though,” Justin says. “Good things happened, too.”

Clay nods. “We stood up to Bryce. And I got a brother.”

He and Justin look at each other.

“A year ago, I didn’t have anybody. I was on the streets, probably high. A lot of shit happened this year, but I’ve got a family now. I have food and a place to live. I’m clean. And I’ve got you guys. I still don’t know how it happened and I definitely don’t deserve it after all the shitty things I’ve done in my life, but I’m grateful for it.”

“Justin, of course you deserve it,” Zach says right away.

“You do,” Jess adds.

Alex nods. “You absolutely fucking do.”

“And you deserve to feel like you deserve it,” Chloe says.

“Our parents and I are lucky to have you.” Clay looks at him. “Don’t cry. It’s true. It’s like our family wasn’t complete until I smuggled you into my room. It was the best bad decision I ever made.”

Justin sniffles. “I’m not crying.”

Alex, who’s sitting next to him, pats his knee. “I have to agree. It was a hell of a year. It started kinda shitty but really picked up.”

“Our New Year’s party wasn’t that bad, though,” Clay says.

“Yeah,” Alex agrees. “It was fun. In a pathetic kind of way. This year’s going to be better.”

“I’m going to miss the baby carrots your mom got us instead of chips, though,” Jess jokes.

Alex laughs. “Like I said: pathetic.”

“I don’t even remember last year’s party,” Chloe admits.

“I don’t think anybody does. We were all drunk at 10 P.M.,” Zach says.

Chloe hugs her knees to her chest. “I was with Bryce a year ago and now I’m here with you. That’s a major improvement. It was the worst year and the best one. I’m still not over what happened and I don’t know if I ever will be, but I’m happy to be here with you and to call you my friends.”

Zach turns to her as she wipes her eyes with the tips of her fingers. “Okay if I hug you?” he asks.

When she nods, he wraps his arms around her. Jess, tears in her eyes, makes to get up to hug her, too, but instead lets Justin pull her onto his lap — “C’mere, Zach’s got her” — and buries her face against his shoulder. Alex rubs Jess’s back while Clay moves closer to Chloe and rests his hand on top of hers.

“This is why things are so much better now than they were last year,” Chloe says once she feels better. She slowly pulls away from the hug.

Jess looks at her friends. Yes, things are much better now. “How do you feel about this year, Zachy?”

“Glad it’s over,” Zach says. He looks down. “2017 was much worse for me, but this year was no walk in the park either. There were a lot of ups and downs. January seems like a million years ago. So much happened. But I’ve still got my mom and my sister. And I have all of you, who were not really in my life a year ago. Not like this, at least. I—I would’ve never thought I’d be here with you today but I’m happy with how things turned out. Really happy. Especially about the cute boy over there.”

Alex smiles, but it’s Justin who speaks: “Oh, Zach, _thank you_.”

Alex elbows him in the ribs, but he’s laughing as he does so.

“This moment calls for a group picture,” Chloe says.

They all gather around for a selfie. Jessica is still sitting on Justin’s lap and Alex puts his head on her shoulder and his right arm around Justin’s waist. Chloe cuddles up next to him and leans against his arm, while Clay and Zach move to stand behind them. Clay’s hands are firm on Justin’s shoulders. Zach bends down to fit in the frame, one hand on Chloe’s back and one on Alex’s shoulder.

They all smile and Jess snaps a picture.

It’s the best one of the year.

* * *

_Sixty seconds to midnight—_

It’s Clay who realizes it. “Fuck, it’s almost time!”

They all get up from their comfortable positions on the couches and look around to locate their glasses.

_—fifty seconds—_

Justin starts filling glasses with what’s left of a bottle of Coke.

_—thirty seconds—_

“Wait, are we doing a toast or a group hug?” Chloe asks. “Because I’d rather not start the new year with soda running down my back.”

They look at one another.

“Group hug,” Jess decides. It feels right.

_—twenty seconds—_

They abandon their glasses on the closest surface they can find, then stand close together in a circle and put their arms around each other.

_—seven seconds—_

They feel the warmth of their friends’ bodies sink deep into their bones. The closeness scares away the demons inside their minds. Shoulders touching, hands on backs, heads resting against each other. They feel safe, protected, loved. They feel whole. The world cannot hurt them. The future holds endless possibilities.

_—three, two, one—_

_—zero._


End file.
